


The Kid

by phantisma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-22
Updated: 2009-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-26 06:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 59,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is 17, Sam is 13.  It's the first day of school and Sam is excited.  Dean, not so much.  However, something strange is going on.  The Impala is parked outside, their father's keys on the table, but who is this five year old kid hiding in their father's bedroom, and why is he saying his name is John Winchester?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean pulled the pillow over his face and pressed down, trying to drown out the rambling voice of his brother, who was probably already dressed, his backpack on, ready to go to the first day of school.

The freak.

“Come on Dean, we’re gonna be late.”

Dean pulled the pillow down and looked up into the very earnest face of his very geeky brother. “Calm down squirt, it’s only the first day.”

“I don’t wanna be late.” Sam’s voice was a nasal whine.

“Maybe Dad will let us take the car.”

“Dad’s home?”

Sam was already racing out of the room they shared as Dean sat up. “I heard him come in around midnight.”

Dean got up and rummaged around for a shirt that didn’t smell like dirty laundry, then pulled his jeans on. He was shoving his feet into his boots when Sam came back with a frown on his face.

“Dad isn’t here.”

Dean crossed to the window and lifted the blind. “Car’s here. Maybe he’s out back.”

“I looked out back.” Sam said. “He’s not in his room or the kitchen or the bathroom.”

Dean stifled a yawn and turned Sam toward the kitchen. “Go get breakfast, I’ll look.”

Dean headed out the door to the porch, checking for blood stains or other signs that his father had come home injured or something. His bag was by the front door. His keys were on the coffee table. He definitely came home.

“Dad?” Dean leaned in the door of his father’s bedroom. There was no light in there and the morning light wasn’t penetrating the dark blanket they’d nailed up to let his father sleep in the mornings.

Dean let his eyes scan the room, trying to penetrate the gloom. Just as he was ready to leave, he saw movement. “Dad?”

There was someone in the corner. Dean moved into the room cautiously. “Dad, is that you?”

“Go away!”

Okay that was definitely not his father. Dean’s hand closed around the edge of the blanket and yanked. Sunlight streamed into the room. For a moment Dean just blinked at the kid huddled in the corner of his father’s room. The kid blinked back.

Then he bolted, yelling. Dean darted after him and together they bowled into Sammy who had come to see what the noise was, and the three of them went crashing into the ground.

“Dean?”

Dean rolled over, pulling them apart and stood. “Hold on Sam.” He pulled the kid upright and held his arm, squatting in front of him. “Who are you?”

The kid was maybe three and a half feet tall, with dark brown hair that was nearly as messy as Sam’s and a round face that looked vaguely familiar. He lifted his head and put on a brave face, though Dean could tell he was really scared.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“You’re in my house, I think you answer my question first.” Dean said, trying to not scare the kid more.

“Why am I here?”

“Tell me who you are and maybe I can figure out why you’re here.”

The kid pulled his arm free. “I’m John.”

Dean had a sick feeling in his stomach, but he pushed it away. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. “Okay, John. I’m Dean. This here is Sam.” He took a deep breath and looked at Sam, but Sam looked as spooked as Dean felt. “Do you have a last name?”

“Winchester. John Winchester.”

Dean fell onto his ass, shaking his head. No fucking way. The kid was in a raggedy pair of sweats that looked disturbingly like his father’s favorite pair of sweats and a t-shirt that could have been his dad’s.

“Dad?” Sam asked, reaching out to touch him.

The kid yanked away from Sam. Dean tried to reason around it. Tried to find something that made sense. The kid was shaking now.

“Where am I? Why did you bring me here? Are you going to hurt me?”

“Whoa, slow down.” Dean got up. “Why don’t you come sit down and I’ll try to answer your questions, and you can answer some of mine.”

John looked wary, but he nodded as Dean moved toward the couch, keeping himself between the kid and the door. The last thing he needed was for his father to bolt out the door with the body and mind of a five year old.

John sat on the edge of the couch and Sam came to stand next to Dean as he sat on the other end. “Okay, John. Um. Where are you? Well, we’re in a place called Bukhannon, in West Virginia.”

“West Virginia?” His lower lip trembled a bit. “I don’t know where that is.”

“Can you tell me how old you are?”

“I’ll be six in December.”

“Okay. Good.” Dean rubbed a hand over his face. This couldn’t be real. Not real. So not fucking real. Sam’s face was white, his hand on Dean’s shoulder a tight grip. Dean patted his hand. “And, what is the last thing you remember before waking up here?”

“My father put me to bed. Gave me Mr. Turtle. Turned off my light. I went to sleep.”

“Dean?” Sam squeezed his shoulder. “What happened?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“Why did you bring me here?” John asked. His arms were crossed and big tears were in his eyes.

“We didn’t.” Dean responded. “I don’t know why you’re here. Okay? We’ll figure it out.”

“I wanna go home.” John stood, stomping his little foot. “I wanna go home right now.”

“You are home.” Sam said.

“Sam. Stop.” Dean stood too, pushing Sam toward the door. “Go to school. I’ll deal with this. I’ll call…I don’t know Bobby or Pastor Jim.”

“I don’t want to.” Sam said pushing back. “I can help. Let me help.”

Dean leaned down. “Look, Sammy. I don’t know what this is. I’ve never heard of anything like this. If this is Dad, something bad got him last night. I need you to give me some time to figure it out. You can help when you get home, okay?”

Sam nodded, then looked back at John who was looking more and more freaked out by the minute. “Don’t be scared, kid, okay? We’re going to help you. It’s what we do. We help people.”

When Sam was gone Dean turned back to face his father. “Okay. I don’t know how to explain what I think happened so that you’ll understand it. But I promise you we aren’t going to hurt you. We just can’t take you home right now.”

“I want my father.”

“You and me both, Kid.” Dean muttered. “Are you hungry? We got some Lucky Charms. Maybe after breakfast…” he trailed off not sure what he was going to say.

John nodded guardedly. Dean tried to smile, then gestured toward the kitchen. “Lucky Charms it is.”

 

 

“I’m telling you, I heard the Impala pull in around midnight. We got up for school and Dad was…five.” Dean leaned around the archway into the kitchen where his father was sitting on a chair, feet dangling, eating Lucky Charms.

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“Dude! The kid is five, says his name is John Winchester and he wants to go home.”

“Where’s Sam?”

“I sent him to school. No point screwing that up. The last thing I need is some nosy social worker poking around.”

“Okay, I’m on my way. It’ll take a few days.”

“Especially the way you drive.” Dean muttered. “Thanks.” He hung up the phone and exhaled slowly before heading in to the kitchen. John was done eating. There was milk on the table, on his face. Dean snagged a paper towel and leaned in to clean him up, but John sat back stiffly. Dean handed the towel to him instead. “Wipe your face.”

“You’re not my father.”

Dean sat heavily in the chair opposite him. “No. I’m really not. But for now, I’m going to look after you until we figure out what’s going on, okay?”

“No, it’s not okay. I want my father and my mom and Mr. Turtle. I want to go home.”

“I know you do. But. I don’t know if we can do that.” Dean ran a hand over his face and sighed. “I have a friend coming to help us. He’ll be here in a few days.”

“I want to go home now.” John was pouting, big tears in his eyes ready to fall.

“Well, Sam was right when he said this is home. We’re family.”

John looked at him like he was crazy. “Sam and me? We’re Winchesters too.”

“You are?”

Dean nodded. “Maybe that’s why you came here to us. So we could look after you.”

“I’m scared.”

Dean knew the feeling. He went to kneel by his father’s chair, turning it to face him. “I know you are. I’m scared too.”

“You are?”

Dean nodded. “Someone I love is missing, and I’m scared for him. But in his place I found you, and so I’m going to take care of you until I find him again.”

 

 

Bobby paced around the kitchen of the small house. Dean leaned on the door frame and watched him. In the living room Sam and John were playing with whatever toys Sam had managed to scrounge up.

John looked a little ridiculous in Sammy’s hand-me-downs. The pants were rolled up and the shirt fit more like a dress. At least he’d stopped randomly bursting into tears.

Bobby scratched at his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Dean had found his father’s journal in the Impala and it was on the table. He’d been pouring over it trying to find some sort of clue. Bobby had just spent the last two hours doing the same thing.

“I mean, I’ve heard of spells that can temporarily de-age a person, but most of those affect either the mind or the body, not both.” He stroked over his beard and sighed. “This is deep magic, Dean. The kind I’ve never seen.”

“What are you saying?”

Bobby shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“We can’t just leave him like that.”

“We might not have a choice.”

Dean shook his head, standing upright and stalking toward Bobby. “No. No. Don’t even think that. There’s an answer. A…witch. Or…or some kind of demon. Something. Just tell me where to find it and how to kill it.” He was yelling and Bobby just stood there, waiting for him to be done.

“We’ll keep looking.” Bobby said softly.

“Fuck!” Dean huffed and backed away. “Fuck, Bobby.” He dragged both hands up over his face and through his hair. “I…just want my father back.”

“I know, Son. I know.”

“Dean?”

He turned around. Sam’s eyes were wide, his arm around John’s shoulders. John looked frightened. “You were yelling.”

Dean exhaled. “Sorry guys. I was a little upset. Why don’t you go play? I’ll make dinner.” Not that he knew what he was going to make. They didn’t have much.

“How about we go out for pizza?” Bobby said. “My treat.”

“Out?” Dean looked at him like he was crazy. He hadn’t let his father out of the house.

“Out.” Bobby’s hands on his shoulders pushed him toward the door. “We can get the kid some clothes at the thrift store in town, some shoes. Have a nice dinner and get a good night’s sleep. Come at this with fresh eyes tomorrow.”

 

John was clearly not all together sure about Bobby, but he climbed up in the booth at the pizza joint next to Sam. Dean sat next to Bobby, feeling like the whole town was staring at them.

At least John was dressed in clothes that fit him now. Bobby had sprung for a few pairs of jeans, some pajamas and t-shirts. Then there was the beat up cowboy hat. John had found it in a bin of random stuff, put it on his head and refused to take it off. Sam had been so helpful by finding him a pair of cowboy boots too.

He and John had wandered off into the toys section while Dean and Bobby rummaged for clothes that would fit the kid. When he heard screeching, Dean had gone running, only to find John squeezing the stuffing out of a stuffed elephant and turning around in circles.

Sam shrugged at him. “Mr. Turtle.”

Now the kid sat in his boots and ridiculous hat with the elephant up under his arm, telling Dean he wanted pizza with puppies and mushies. Bobby was snickering.

“Puppies and mushies?” It took Dean a minute to figure out he meant pepperoni and mushrooms, but then that was usually what his father ordered, so it made sense.

With the pizza ordered, Dean sat back and tried to relax. Beside him he could tell Bobby was looking for a way to say something Dean wasn’t going to like. “Just say it.” Dean said, nursing his coke and wishing he could have the beer sitting in front of Bobby.

“Okay. I think maybe you need to get him into school tomorrow.”

“What?”

Bobby took a deep pull on his beer. “Hear me out. You need to get your ass to school too. You said yourself you don’t need any social workers lurking around. I’ll stay a while, research, follow up on whatever he was working on, see if I can back track.”

“Who the hell am I supposed to say he is?”

Bobby shook his head. “Your brother? Your nephew? Whatever. Just tell them you’ll have his papers in a few days. I’ll get a friend of mine to work them up.”

Inside Dean was cussing a blue streak. He didn’t want to need a fake birth certificate. He wanted his father to be his father again. Not some five year old with a stuffed elephant and a cowboy fetish. He pushed it down and nodded. Bobby was right. They couldn’t afford attention. He could handle this.

“Okay. Fine. He goes to school in the morning.”

“School?” John looked up. “I don’t want to go to school.”

“School is fun.” Sam said. “You get to meet other kids and learn stuff and play.”

“I can play with you.” John said, his voice a little whiny.

“When we get home.” Sam said, patting his little hand. “You’ll love it, you’ll see.”

John didn’t look like he believed Sam, but they were saved from more talk about it by the arrival of the pizza. Dean watched them eat, his mind already starting to construct the story he’d tell the school. It had to be simple enough that John could remember it, and convincing enough that no one would go digging.

 

 

“But it’s a lie!” John said. “My mommy didn’t send me here!”

Dean took a deep breath. “I realize it’s a lie…but if we tell them the truth, they’ll take you away…and Sam and me will get in trouble. You don’t want me to go to jail do you?”

John’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head. “I like you.”

Dean chuckled a little. “I like you too Kid. Now, tell me the story again.”

“My mommy asked you to look after me while she finishes her job and moves here.”

Dean nodded. “Good. And who am I?”

“My uncle Dean.” He frowned. “Are you my uncle, Dean?”

“Not exactly. But it’s close enough. Okay?”

John nodded. “Okay.”

“You should probably leave Mr. Turtle here.”

John shook his head, clutching the elephant to him. “He goes with me.”

It wasn’t a fight Dean figured was worth fighting. He straightened out John’s shirt and stood. “Sammy! You ready?”

Dean poked his head into the kitchen where Bobby was already pouring over the journal again. “We’re out of here. See you around three.”

He grabbed the keys to the Impala and herded John and Sam out to the car. He helped John up into the back seat and circled around to the driver’s side. The whole idea made him nervous. John was adjusting well enough, only declared his desire to go home once or twice a day now and hadn’t cried since Bobby showed up.

He had crawled into Dean’s bed the night before, saying he’d had a nightmare. But Dean was used to that. Sammy still did that some nights.

Dean dropped Sam off first, then headed to the elementary school. John looked nervous as he got out of the car, and his little hand slipped into Dean’s as they headed up the walk and into the office.

The woman behind the desk was a pretty blond, and she smiled at them as they came in. Dean turned on his charm, lifting John up and settling him against his hip. “Morning.”

“How can I help you?”

“This here is John, my nephew. He’s just moving up here and I need to get him started in school.”

“Well, hello John. I’m Miss Hill.”

John looked at Dean, then the woman. It took a minute, but he smiled. “Hi.”

Dean sighed a little in relief. “I don’t have all his stuff, you know birth certificate and shot records and all that, but they’ll be here in a few days. His mother is bringing them when she comes.”

“I’m sure we can get started without them. I just have some paperwork for you to fill out.”

Twenty minutes later, Dean was holding John’s hand and following Miss Hill to the kindergarten. “This is your teacher, Ms. Martin. Ms. Martin, this is John Winchester. He’s just starting school.”

John clung to him for a few minutes, looking around the bright room and all the faces looking at him. Dean squatted down. “I’ll be back for you at the end of the day, okay Kid?”

John nodded, though he still looked terrified. “I don’t think I can do this,” he whispered to Dean, throwing his arms around Dean’s neck and holding on for dear life. “Don’t leave me alone.”

“You’re not alone. Look, there’s all these kids. They want to be your friends.”

Dean pried his hands free and looked John in the eye. “You have to be a brave little soldier, okay?”

John rolled his eyes at Dean. “I’m a cowboy, not a soldier.”

“Okay, whatever. Just…be good, okay?”

Ms. Martin reached out for John’s hand and he took it hesitantly. Dean waited until she’d gotten him sitting with the other kids, then backed away slowly.

“It’s always hard the first day.”

Dean nodded, watching through the window. “He’s had a rough couple of weeks.”

“Well, moving is always hard.” Miss Hill smiled softly at him.

“It was kind of a surprise to him too. He…doesn’t understand everything that’s happened, and I don’t really know how to tell him, you know?” He rubbed a hand through his hair and scratched at the back of his head.

“His mother isn’t actually coming, is she?”

Dean looked up, startled. “He doesn’t know. His parents…”

“How did they die?”

Dean opened his mouth, not sure what to say. “I…accident. My dad’s back there sorting stuff out.”

“Kids are resilient, Mr. Winchester.”

“Dean. I’m Dean.”

She smiled at him again. “You’re doing a good job, Dean. He’ll be okay. He’s young, and he obviously adores you.”

“I—thank you.” He should be getting out of there. He had to get to his own school. “I should go.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you.”

 

 

School had never been Dean’s thing, but sitting there listening to some middle-aged man drone on and on while watching the clock was worse for knowing that the kid was waiting for him was killing him.

The kid, because no matter how hard he tried, Dean couldn’t think of him as John. John was his father. The ex-marine, demon-hunting bad ass.

The bell rang and Dean was up and out of his seat and half way to the Impala. All he could think about was the way the kid had held onto him and asked him not to leave.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the elementary school. Miss Hill was standing beside John, holding his hand as they waited. Mr. Turtle dangled out of his other hand.

“See, I told you he’d be back.” She let go of John’s hand as Dean approached.

“You okay, buddy?” Dean asked, dropping to one knee in front of him.

John nodded, then launched himself at Dean. “I thought you forgot me.”

Dean stood, holding John to him. “Never. I told you I’d be back.” He looked at Miss Hill. “Thanks for waiting with him. I’m going to see if I can rearrange my class schedule to get here a little earlier.”

She smiled softly. “He can always hang out with me until you get here.”

“Thanks.”

“See you tomorrow John.”

Dean got John into the car and exhaled slowly. He was in way over his head with this. He could only hope Bobby found something.

 

 

“I got nothing.” Bobby said when Dean came back from putting John to bed. Days had past and they had exhausted John’s journal, Bobby’s knowledge, every contact that Dean knew. “Nothing.”

“How can there be nothing?” Dean’s stomach was twisted up as he paced around Bobby.

“I’ve got calls out to see if anyone has any ideas, but I gotta tell you Dean, I don’t think we’re going to fix this.”

“No. No. I’m not hearing this.” There was no way Dean was ready to be a full time father. Especially not to his father. Big brother to Sammy was one thing. But this was completely different.

“I called Pastor Jim earlier. He says you boys could come stay with him.”

Dean shook his head. “No. I’m not dropping my problems in his lap.” He paced around. “We’ll find something. We just have to look harder.”

“I already went back over his last two cases. Both basic poltergeists. Nothing that would cause this. I thought maybe a Trickster, but I can’t find any other cases. No missing people. No occult activity. Very little demon activity.”

“We’re missing something.”

Bobby sighed and shook his head. “I don’t like it any better than you do.” He pulled his hat off and scratched at his head. “Maybe I got a book or something back home. I can’t make promises.”

“A book? I have a little boy where I used to have a father for fuck’s sake.”

“Don’t get testy with me, I’m trying to help.”

“For all the good that’s done.” Dean muttered. He sighed. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault.”

He sat on the couch and covered his face with his hands. “I’m not sure what to do here.”

“You’re doing a good job, Dean. You’ve earned his trust. He’s really taken to Sam. You’ll be okay.”

“I’m no father.” Dean groaned as he sat back and looked up at Bobby. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“There’s always the off chance that it’ll just wear off. You know, if it’s a spell.”

Deep down though, Dean knew it wasn’t going to just wear off. It wasn’t a spell. He didn’t know what it was, but he was beginning to believe that maybe Bobby was right, as much as that thought terrified him. It had already been a week. A whole week.

“I’m going to have to tell him he can’t ever go home. That his parents are dead.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Bobby asked as Dean pushed up off the couch.

“I can’t keep lying to him. I can’t tell him everything, but he deserves to know.”

“Dean, he’s just a kid.”

“A kid who thinks his parents are waiting for him and that we’ll sort this whole thing out.” Dean shook his head. “I have to tell him something.” Dean paced a little.

“You should go to Jim.” Bobby said, grabbing at his duffle bag.

Dean shook his head. “No, this is family. I’ll…get a job…or something.”

“You don’t have to handle this on your own.”

“I know. We’ll be fine.” He walked with Bobby to the door.

“I won’t give up looking for an answer.”

“Neither will I.” Dean responded.

“Keep in touch. If you need anything—“

“Yeah, I know. I’ll call.”

“Watch your back.”

“I will.” Dean watched him leave. He had to talk to the kid. He closed the front door and went to the bedroom. John looked so small in the bed that he used to barely fit in. He opened his eyes as Dean came into the room. “Hey, you should be sleeping.”

“I was thinking.”

Dean sat on the bed and smoothed the blankets around him. “Oh, what about?”

“I think I came here because something happened at home and I couldn’t stay there.” John shifted around and sat up. “My mom used to cry a lot. My dad said she was sad, and I tried to cheer her up, but she just cried more. I think maybe I was making her sad.”

Dean frowned and shook his head. “I don’t think you made her sad.”

“Why did she cry all the time?”

Dean took a deep breath. “I don’t know. But I know she loved you.” He didn’t know much about his grandparents and had only very vague memories of his father’s father. He had no memories of his grandmother. “But, I think maybe you came here so I could keep you safe.”

John looked up at him. “Did something happen to my mother?”

“I’m not sure.” Dean said. “I think maybe.” Even though he knew he should just say it and be done with it, looking at his father’s young little face, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“And my father?”

Dean pressed his lips together. “We’re still trying to find him.”

John nodded, looking down. “Would it be okay if you stayed with me and Sam for a while?” Dean asked softly.

“I miss them.” John replied, his hand snaking over the blankets to slip into Dean’s. “But I think they’d like it if they knew I had family watching over me.”

“Family.” Dean nodded. Because that was what it was about. Kid or not, John was family. “Good, because I kind of like having you around, Kid.” He stood and encouraged John to lay back down, tucking the blankets around him when he did. “Now, you get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll head over to the park or something.”

He leaned down and kissed John’s forehead, then froze slightly. It felt natural, but still strange. “Night.”

“Night Dean.”

Dean closed his door half way, then went to the room he shared with Sam. His brother was asleep, long leg hanging off the side of the bed and blankets wound tight around him. Dean eased his leg back up onto the bed and smoothed out the blankets.

He was going to have to drop out of school. Not that he cared much, but Sam was going to pitch a fit. Maybe he could convince a garage to give him a chance, work as a mechanic or something. At least that way they could afford to eat.

Dean stripped out of his jeans and fell into his bed. The whole thing was exhausting. “Dean?”

He looked up to find John beside the bed. “Could I sleep with you?”

Dean nodded and scooted over, holding up the sheet to let John slide in beside him. It took him a minute to get comfortable, but then he was snoring quickly. Dean slung an arm over him, pulling him close and pressed a kiss to the back of his head. “What the fuck happened to you, Dad?” he whispered into John’s hair.

Nothing but the sounds of an old house and a cool night answered him though. Dean was clearly on his own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 17, Sam is 13. John is going on 6. Bobby finds something, but isn't as helpful as Dean wanted it to be. Dean and John bond a little more.

Bobby was only gone a week before he was back with the promised papers. Dean met him on the porch as the boys were finishing up dinner. “Sorry it took so long, but they’re good.”

Dean frowned at him. “How good?”

“Good enough. How you boys doing?”

Dean shrugged and gestured into the house. “I got stew leftover. Want a beer?”

Bobby snorted. “How’d you get beer?”

“I have my ways. Come on in.”

“Uncle Bobby!” Sam jumped up to hug Bobby. John just looked up at him cautiously. 

Bobby thumped Sam’s back and snagged a chair. “How’s school?”

“I have the smartest teacher on the planet.” Sam said.

“Doesn’t hurt that she’s a looker.” Dean responded with a smirk.

“Dean!”

“I’m just saying. Blond, tits out to here—“

“I get the picture.” Bobby said, taking the beer Dean offered him.

“You two clear your dishes and go get on that homework thing. Let the grown ups talk.” Dean turned to get the stew and a clean bowl.

“So Bobby’s going to talk to himself?” Sam shot back, ducking out of reach. “Come on Johnny, I’ll help you with those alphabet pages.”

“Homework in kindergarten?” Bobby asked as they both scampered away.

Dean shrugged. “He’s having some problems. His teacher thinks that if we work with him at home a little he’ll overcome them.”

“What kind of problems?”

“Hell if I know. He’s perfectly fine here at home.” He popped a top on a beer of his own and straddled his chair. He pulled the packet of papers to him and opened them. There was a birth certificate and immunization records, but when Dean looked closer at the birth certificate, it listed him as the father. “What’s this?”

Bobby looked up from the stew he was shoveling into his mouth. “Figured you might need it.”

“You know I would have been twelve when he was born.”

“When he was born, you were still twenty two years away from being considered.” Bobby countered.

“You found something.” Dean knew it from the way Bobby was avoiding it. He found something and Dean wasn’t going to like it.

“It’s only a theory. I did some digging on your dad’s history, his parents.”

Dean waited for him to continue, but he didn’t right away. “Okay, what does that have to do with him suddenly being five?”

“Did you know your grandmother killed herself?”

Dean shook his head. “No. Dad never talked about her.”

“He was six when it happened. The day before his birthday.”

“That sucks.” 

Bobby taped the folder and Dean flipped past the letter. There were news clippings. “Dad found her?” He could see why his father would never talk about her. “The kid said his mom was always sad.” 

There were yellow highlights on one of the clippings. Dean lifted it. “Police are investigating…blah, blah, blah…reports of an unhappy marriage.”

“Your grandfather was cleared, but you know how things were back then.”

“Are you saying he killed her?”

Bobby hung his head. “I don’t know. There were eyewitnesses that claimed he hit her. And your father went to the hospital when he was four with a broken arm no one could explain.”

Dean flipped past the clippings and found a photocopy of a page out of a book. “What’s a wisch?”

Bobby pointed at the page with his spoon. “My theory. They’re rare, but it’s the only thing I couldn’t rule out.”

Dean lifted the page, his eyes scanning over the details. A form of fairy. One that granted wishes. Or one wish. They granted one wish and then died. No go backs, no exchanges. “Are you telling me that Dad wished himself back to five?”

Bobby shrugged and lifted his beer. “I don’t know Dean. But that case, the one he was working the night this happened? It involved a woman who killed herself. She was found by her seven year old daughter. It might have brought up a lot of old emotions. Wisches aren’t exactly discerning about what wish they grant.”

“So Dad has some random passing thought about when he was five, and this thing decides to give him a…what? A second chance?”

“I’m just guessing Dean.”

Dean sighed and drained his beer. “Great. So how do we fix it?”

“We don’t.”

Dean cursed and stood, pacing away. “There has to be something.”

“Nothing. The wish is permanent.”

Permanent. “Great. Just fucking great!” Dean threw his chair into the fridge, splintering it. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

He ran his hands through his hair. It was all okay, as long as he didn’t think too much about it, as long as he let some part of himself believe that there was an end somewhere ahead. 

The thought that this was it…that he was going to end up not just raising his geek brother, but his own father too? It was too much. “How the hell am I supposed to raise him?”

“You don’t have to.” Bobby’s words cut through Dean’s anguish and brought him up short. 

“What?”

Bobby stood up from the table, holding his hands up. “Just listen, Dean. You’re just a kid yourself. None of us think you’re ready for this. Pastor Jim is going to come see you boys, help you weigh your options, okay?”

“Options?” Dean shook his head. “Why does this sound like you’re telling me to turn him over to the goddamn system?”

Bobby rubbed a hand over his beard. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“No?” Dean shook his head again. “I suppose you think I should give Sam away too? Send him off to be raised by strangers?”

“Dean—“

“Fuck you Bobby.” He stormed across the kitchen and up into Bobby’s face. “Fuck you. This is my family. MY FAMILY!”

“And you’re a seventeen year old boy with no high school diploma and no prospects.” Bobby said when the silence had stretched out.

“I have a job. I start on Monday.”

“And what about school?”

“Screw school. I’m no good at it anyway.”

“What job?” Bobby asked. “What job does a seventeen year old get that will support two growing boys?”

The fury dumped out of his system. “Washing dishes. We’ll get by.”

“Get by.” Bobby echoed. “That sounds an awful lot like your Daddy.”

“Maybe.” Dean scratched at his head. “I’m not ready to give them up.”

“No one’s saying you have to.” Bobby said. “We’re just saying you need to think this through. I’m staying at the motel on the edge of town. Jim will be here in a few days. We’re going to help you through this.”

Dean didn’t walk him to the door. There was no point. Dean closed his eyes. He couldn’t imagine life without Sam. And he couldn’t imagine what the kid would think if Dean walked away from him now.

The whole thing was unfair. Fucking unfair.

He picked up his beer bottle, only to slam it into the sink in a fury. A piece ricocheted back at him, cutting his cheek. Dean stumbled back into the wall, sliding down it, holding his cheek.

The tears were hot as they seared down his face and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will them away.

“Dean?”

He sniffed and lifted his head. Sam was standing in the door way. “You okay?”

Dean nodded shakily. “Yeah, just…you know?”

Sam came a few steps closer. “Dad’s really not coming back this time, is he?”

“No, Sammy. I don’t think he is.” Dean admitted, wiping his face. “I think that John in there is all we’ll ever have of Dad.”

“Are we going to be okay?”

Dean picked himself up off the floor and exhaled slowly. “Yeah, Sammy. We’ll be okay.” 

“I can get a paper route.” Sam said as they started cleaning up the mess Dean had made. “You know, so we can replace the furniture you keep breaking.”

Dean didn’t have enough energy left in him to rise to the barb. Instead he just ruffled Sam’s hair. “You concentrate on school. I’ll worry about the money.”

 

It took Dean a few days to come up with a fake ID convincing enough to say he was old enough to have a kid John’s age. By the time he started work that Monday though, he was semi-officially nineteen, which admittedly made him fourteen when he did the deed, but considering he was only two days past fourteen when he lost his virginity, he figured it would work. Anything over nineteen would probably get questioned.

He dropped Sam and John off at school and headed to the diner. It wasn’t his first choice, but the town wasn’t all that big, and his choices were pretty small. He made it through the paperwork part of the day, met his coworkers and got the grand tour before he was shown to his sink.

It was a long day and by the time it was over his feet and back ached, and he felt grimy. “Good job today, Winchester,” the owner said as Dean pulled his apron off and wiped his forehead.

“Thanks.”

“Want some dinner?”

“Can’t, I have to go pick up my kid brother and my…kid.”

“Whoa, you got a kid?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, and today’s the first day I didn’t pick him up from school. I really should get home.”

“You should bring them in on your day off.”

“We’ll see. I gotta go.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Dean wasn’t even out of the car before John was flying out the front door, launching himself into Dean’s arms as he got close enough. His face was wet with tears and his little body shook with sobs. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

John just buried his face in Dean’s shoulder. Dean headed into the house. “Sam? What’s wrong with him?

Sam looked up from his homework. “Some kids at school were picking on him. Calling him names.”

“All this over names?”

Sam shrugged. “I haven’t gotten him to say more than that he wanted you.”

“Okay, buddy, let’s you and me go have a beer, okay?”

Dean took John into the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of beer and a can of root beer. He sat John on the counter and handed him the soda. “Bad day?”

John sobbed and nodded.

“Me too. Want to tell me?”

John blinked up at him. “Toby Haus.”

Dean nodded and sipped on his beer. “Toby Haus, eh? What did Toby do?”

“He told everyone my mommy didn’t want me anymore.” John sniffled. “They said I was so ugly and bad she sent me away. And my father didn’t want me either.”

Dean inhaled. He’d forgotten how cruel kids could be. “All that, huh? Sounds pretty bad.”

John nodded miserably, sipping on his soda. “He took my hat and ripped off Mr. Turtle’s tail.”

“This Toby guy sounds like a jerk.”

“He is.”

“You know none of that is true right?” Dean’s eyes narrowed, watching John think it through. “First of all, look at you. You’re a Winchester. Naturally handsome. Devastatingly handsome.” John blinked at him. “I mean, look at me. I’m pretty good looking, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Dean smirked. “Any kid with my genes is gonna be just as good looking. Second, you’re pretty damn good kid. I’m sure that your mother would never send you away.”

The tears were back in his eyes and Dean kicked himself. “As to your father. Well, let’s just say your father wants you right where you are. You get me?”

Obviously not, judging from the look on the kid’s face. “See…” He pulled out his wallet, unfolded the birth certificate. “This piece of paper right here? It says that I’m your father.”

John’s eyes were big. “You? But what about my Dad?”

Dean took a deep breath. “I need you to tell me something John. Seriously.”

John nodded. Dean never called him by his name. “Did he ever hurt you? You or your mother?”

“Family business.” John whispered. “Not supposed to talk about it.” He looked away.

Dean pressed his lips together and pushed aside the irrational anger. “I’m family too, John. You can tell me.”

“Sometimes. When he was drinking. He gets angry.” John said, looking up at him. “Mom says he doesn’t mean it.”

“A man who hits a kid is no father, you hear me?”

“Did he do something to my mother?”

“We don’t know. But you’re safe now. You’re with me and I’m going to make sure no one ever hurts you like that again.”

Dean barely caught him as John pushed himself off the counter and into his arms again. “Kinda need to breathe Kid.” He shouldn’t have told the kid that. Shouldn’t have lied to him. He just didn’t know what else to do. 

“Okay. So tell me, did Mr. Turtle and his tail make it home?” 

John nodded as Dean put him on the ground. “Go get him. Sammy! Bring the med kit. We have some surgery to do.”

Ten minutes later John hovered over Dean as Dean used the surgical thread and the stitching skills his father had taught him to re-attach Mr. Turtle’s tail. “Good as new.” John hugged him and took off running to the bedroom he was sharing with Sam now that Dean had moved into their father’s room.

“Nice.” Sam said, helping him clean up.

“I sewed together that damn teddy bear of yours enough, I figured an elephant’s tail would be easy.”

One more crisis averted. He was more used to sewing up his father’s body parts than his father’s favorite stuffed animal, but all in all, it wasn’t a bad trade.

 

“You’re good with him.” Pastor Jim sipped at his coffee, watching John play with other kids in the sandbox while Sam was off reading a book under some tree.

“Thanks. I think.” Dean said, sitting beside him and lifting his own cup. “We’re doing okay.”

“For now.” There was no condemnation in his voice, but that didn’t mean Dean didn’t feel it. 

“I know you and Bobby think I can’t handle this.” He sighed and kicked his legs out in front of him. “Maybe you’re right. But look at him. I can’t even imagine sending him away.”

“Bobby tells me you dropped out of school.”

“Need to work. Rent’s due in a few days. Dad had us paid up until the end of the month.”

Jim nodded. “How’s Sam taking all of this?”

Dean squinted in Sam’s direction. “Good, I think. They get along better now…and Sam gets to be the big brother for a change.”

“But he lost his father.”

That was true. “I don’t think that’s really sunk in yet.” Dean said. 

“Are you ready for the fall out when it does?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. Sam and me, we’ve always been okay on our own. Dad taught us to be self-reliant.”

“But did he teach you how to be a father?”

Dean turned to look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Pastor Jim leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I don’t mean anything in particular Dean. You boys didn’t have a conventional childhood is all. Sam’s in eight grade? And how many schools has it taken to get him there?”

More than eight, Dean knew. “So? Look at him. He’s a smart little geek.”

“That isn’t the point and you know it.”

“Okay, so Dad wasn’t the best role model. I get that.” Dean drank his coffee and watched John play. “Did you know his father abused him?”

“He told you that?”

Dean nodded. “I never knew. He never told us.” He sighed. “His mother died, probably killed by my grandfather. They ruled it suicide. No wonder Dad joined the Marines when he was seventeen.” Dean stood and paced around a little. Just thinking about it made him angry every single time. “So maybe he wasn’t the best father, but he wasn’t the worst either.”

“And now you think you can give him a better life?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Dean sighed and sat back down. “I want to try.”

Jim looked at him and it felt like he was sizing Dean up. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m not moving in on you. No offense, but your place isn’t exactly my style.”

Jim smiled and nodded. “I remember. At least consider moving closer, so I can help when you need it?”

Dean had considered that. It wasn’t a bad plan compared to some of the others he’d considered. “After the semester is over. The kid’s just getting settled in, I don’t want to pull him out.”

“Come for Christmas.” Jim said, standing and putting his coffee cup in the trash by the bench. “I’ll help you find a place, line up some work.”

Dean hated admitting he needed the help, but washing dishes in some local diner wasn’t exactly going to keep them in the lap of luxury. In fact it was barely going to keep a roof over their heads. “Christmas.” It seemed like a lifetime away.

“Oh, and you can tell Bobby I’m not mad at him. He can come by once in a while if he wants.”

Jim chuckled. “I’ll tell him. You call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” Dean stood to hug the older man, relieved somehow to have something of a plan.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 17, Sam is 13. John is going on 6. The Winchester family is adjusting to their new life. at least until a little bit of the old comes to visit. Told from Sam's POV.

It was kind of nice, having a little brother. Sam picked John up everyday after school and they walked home together, talking about school. Sam would fix them a snack and play with John until Dean came home, then they’d fix dinner together. 

Well Dean did most of the fixing. Sam got stuff for him and set the table, and John mostly sat on the counter and bantered with Dean. After dinner, Sam went to their room to do his homework while Dean helped John with his.

He was getting better at it, but he still sometimes messed up his “b” and his “d” and his “4” and his “9” 

Sometimes John let Sam read him a story at bedtime. Sometimes he only wanted Dean to do it, and that was okay, because after all, John thought Dean was his dad.

And that was a little messed up if Sam thought about it. But Sam didn’t think about it. It made his head hurt when he did. Because John was Dad, but now Dean was Dad for John and even though Sam was smart, there was no way that _that_ made any kind of sense in the real world.

In the real world there were no witches or demons or ghosts, no possible way for Dad to become John. That only happened in the nighttime world. The one Sam hated for taking their father away from them for so many birthdays and Christmases and stupid school things. The one that Sam didn’t have to worry about anymore because Dad wasn’t hunting anymore.

So maybe it was messed up, but that was then. And now? Now things were pretty cool. John looked up to him, like Sam had always looked up to Dean. And Sam was thirteen now, practically a grown up himself. When Dean was thirteen he came to Sam’s school play because he had a speaking part and was nervous, and Dad had been away. 

It was December already, and the ground was covered in snow. Dean had told them to come to the diner after school because it was closer and he’d drive them home. Sam trudged through the snow from his school to John’s. 

The air was frigid and they were expecting more snow by morning. Damn West Virginia. He liked it better when they got to spend the winter in warmer places. Like California. Sam liked California.

Of course, it would help if they could afford something more than thrift store clothes. With the rate Sam was growing, nothing fit and the jacket Dean had bought him in October was already too small. 

“Sam!” He looked up to find John jumping up and down next to his teacher. 

“Hey, squirt.” Sam ruffled his hair and John swatted at his hands.

“Sam, I did it! I got them all right!”

Mrs. Martin smiled at him. “He’s been working really hard, Sam.”

John thrust a piece of paper at him. Sam took it and opened it. Three neat rows of letters, upper case and lower case filled the page. There was a bright yellow smiley face in the corner. “Wow, this is really good, Johnny. Dean’ll be proud.”

“Are we going to work now?” 

Sam tucked John’s paper into John’s back pack and threw it over his own shoulder. “We are. Maybe if we’re lucky Mrs. Afferly will give us hot cocoa.”

“That’d be sweet.” John said, taking Sam’s hand as they headed out.

Mrs. Afferly was the wife of the guy that owned the diner, and she sometimes sent Dean home with cakes and cookies for him and John. Sometimes she invited them to come to dinner, but Dean only took them once because he didn’t want to get too close. He said it was because he didn’t want to impose, but Sam knew they were leaving soon, and John was already attached to way too many people. 

Marian was working the counter when they got there. Only not so much with the working part, since there was no one there. She smiled at them as Sam led John to their regular booth. 

“Hey boys, how was school?”

“Good.” Sam said, pulling his coat off and helping John with his.

“Want some cocoa?”

“Yes please.” John said brightly before Sam could respond.

Marian disappeared in the kitchen. It was Dean who came out a few minutes later with cocoa though. “Hey.”

Sam could tell by the look on his face that something wasn’t right. “What?”

Dean shook his head and turned his attention to John. “Hey Kid. How was school?”

“I did it, show him Sam!” Sam pulled out the paper and handed it to Dean as he slid into the booth.

“This is very cool, Johnny. Very cool.” 

John beamed and sipped his cocoa.

“You guys hungry? I’ll have Shaun whip you up some mac-n-cheese for dinner before we head home.”

“I want pancakes.” John said

Dean nodded. “Pancakes it is. What about you Sam?”

Sam frowned at him, trying to will Dean into telling him what was wrong. “Pancakes are fine.”

“Why don’t you guys get started on your homework. I’ll bring it out in a minute.”

Dean headed back to the kitchen and Sam slid out of the booth too. “I gotta pee John, you stay here, okay?”

John was already digging out his crayons and coloring pages that was his homework most nights. He nodded and Sam headed toward the bathrooms, detouring into the kitchen. 

“Sam! You don’t belong back here.” Dean said, pushing him back out the door.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

Dean made a face, then sighed. “I’m going to go out tonight. I need you to keep an eye on things.”

“Out?” That sounded suspiciously like Dad’s mask for hunting. “What kind of out?”

“There’s something I need to do.”

“Let it wait for Bobby. He said he’d be back tomorrow.”

Dean shook his head. “Can’t wait. Tonight’s the last night of the full moon.”

Sam felt his heart race. “Werewolf?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dean nodded. “Looks like. Here in town. It killed two people already.”

Sam didn’t like it. “Not alone.”

“I don’t have a choice Sam. It looks like its first cycle. I should be fine.”

Sam didn’t like it. But Dean was right. They couldn’t let it kill again. “Call Bobby.”

“I already did. He’s on his way, but he won’t make it in time.” Dean cocked a smile. “Go get your homework done and I’ll bring you some dinner.”

Dean had never hunted alone. Not really. Sam knew that Dean thought he had, and their father had let him think it. Built confidence John said. Not that he knew Sam knew either. Sam had over heard him talking with Bobby. Their father had shadowed Dean on both hunts.

Still. Dean was good. He was a good tracker and a better shot. He’d be okay.

Sam slipped back into the booth.

“I broke the black one.” John said, holding it up.

“You hold them too tight.” Sam answered. “They aren’t like pencils.”

“Where’s you’re homework?”

“I did it in school.” Sam said. It wasn’t totally true, but he was busy watching Dean in the window into the kitchen. 

“Color with me?”

“Maybe later.”

“Are you mad at me?” John asked suddenly and Sam tore his eyes away from his brother to look at him.

“What?”

“You’re not normal.”

“I’m a Winchester.” Sam said reflexively, then shook his head. “No, I’m not mad at you. Just hungry.”

“Me too.”

“Good, cause I’ve got food.” Dean said, coming out of the kitchen with a big plate of pancakes. Marian came behind him with plates and napkins and a big bottle of syrup. “Dig in Sammy, don’t let it get cold.”

 

Sam watched Dean tuck John in, kiss his forehead and turn off the light. It was barely eight. Sam followed Dean back into the kitchen, dragging Dad’s old weapons duffle to the table. Dean lifted it and put on the cracked Formica with a clank. 

“You lock the doors behind me.” Dean said. He lifted a revolver from the bag and dumped the bullets, replacing them with silver ones from the beat up wooden box. He handed the gun to Sam. “This one’s for you. Set the salt lines like I taught you.”

“I know Dean.”

He was loading another gun, sorting through the bullets in the box for ones that fit. “I’ve never left you alone.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Dean looked at him, then at the kitchen door. “No matter what, he doesn’t know what this is about, okay?”

Sam nodded. No kid should know what was really out there in the dark. Once you knew, you couldn’t ever forget. “I got it. I’ll salt the doors and I’ll wait up.”

“Shouldn’t take long. It hit in the same area both nights. Just out past town. Got a guy in a broke down car first night, out on that stretch near Miller’s. Slashed up a bunch of cows too.” Dean tucked a gun into the back of his belt and another near his hip. He exhaled and nodded. “Okay.”

He was nervous. Sam could tell. “You’ll get him.” Dean smiled at him and headed for the door. Sam followed him and watched him get into the car. Dean didn’t pull out, just sat there, watching Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes and closed the door, locking it. He heard the Impala pull out. He sighed and touched up the salt line, checked the window, then went to the back door and did the same thing.

He figured he could finish the math homework he didn’t get done while he waited. He pulled his backpack to the kitchen and settled in. It wasn’t hard, and in fact it was boring. It didn’t take long to finish. 

He wandered to the window, looking up and down the road. Of course it was silly to think Dean would be back so fast. It had only been a half hour or so. Sam went to check on John. He was curled up tight with Mr. Turtle, sound asleep.

Whenever Dean waited up for Dad, he got stuff ready, just in case. Sam went to the bathroom and pulled out the first aid kit. Just the thought of needing it made his palms sweat. He didn’t know how to take care of stuff like Dean did. He hadn’t learned how to do stitches and he mostly knew how to hold bandages so that Dean could do other stuff.

He put the first aid kit on the coffee table and sat down on the couch. After a while, he turned on the television. He flipped through channels until he found some movie that didn’t look too stupid and he settled in to wait.

The sound of the Impala woke him. The movie had given way to some infomercial. Sam squinted at the clock, but in the dark he couldn’t make out what time it was. The car stopped. Sam waited.

The car was still running. Sam went to the window and looked out. He could see the tail lights. He lifted the gun off the table where he’d left it and opened the door cautiously. He couldn’t see Dean.

He stepped out onto the stairs. “Dean?” His heart was pounding. The air was freezing on his bare arms. “Dean?”

He was at the bottom of the stairs now and still no Dean. “Fuck.” His father would have smacked him if he’d heard that. Sam stopped in his tracks. “Dean, this isn’t funny.”

Sam inched closer to the car. He could see the driver’s side door was open. The headlights reflected off the house. “Dean?”

He moved in front of the car, casting a long shadow over the car and lawn. “Come on, man.” He came around the driver’s side fender, gun up, half expecting Dean to jump out from the bushes.

But Dean didn’t jump.

“Dean!”

The snow was red. Snow shouldn’t be red. Sam fell to his knees beside Dean. He was cold. Or maybe Sam’s hands were frozen. There was blood, so much blood.

“Dean? Oh, god Dean. Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead.” Sam tried to remember what to do, how to tell. He put his hand over Dean’s mouth. There was air. He was breathing. That was good.

Dean groaned as Sam touched him. His eyes fluttered open. “Sam…”

“Don’t…fuck Dean…I don’t know what to do.” 

“Call 911.” Dean said, his voice weak. “Get kit.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

Dean’s hand pulled his away from the gaping hole in his jacket. “Sam. You have to. Come back.”

“Don’t you die on me.” 

Dean shook his head. Sam got on his feet and ran for the house, slipping in the snow. His face was wet with tears, his hands covered in blood. He tried to wipe them clean before grabbing the phone and dialing. It took forever for anyone to answer. “My brother’s hurt. We need an ambulance. 904 Grassling. Please hurry, there’s blood…lots of blood.” She was asking him questions, but Sam just dropped the phone and grabbed the first aid kit, and the ratty blanket off the chair before racing back outside.

Dean’s eyes were closed and he was ghastly pale when Sam got back. “Dean? Dean…they’re coming.”

Dean opened his eyes, rolling his head until he found Sam next to him again. His hand stuttered over the blood stained snow to Sam’s, dragging it to his bloody side. “Here. Stop the bleeding.” 

Sam fumbled with the kit, finally getting gauze out of it and pressing it through the hole until he felt the warmth of blood. “Just hold on Dean. They’ll be here any minute. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.”

The whole world narrowed down to his hands in Dean’s side and those words on endless repeat in his brain. Dean couldn’t leave him. Not like this. Not when his father was already gone. This shouldn’t be Sam’s job, holding Dean’s life in his hands, watching Dean bleed out into the snow. It shouldn’t be Dean dying.

Then there were hands pulling him away, voices asking him questions. All he could see was Dean’s face, slack and pale and lifeless as they worked on him in the snow, then lifted him onto a gurney.

It was John screaming in the doorway that snapped Sam back. He shook his head and pulled clear of the woman trying to hold him in a blanket. “Johnny, Johnny. Settle down.” Sam said, but John wouldn’t let Sam touch him. 

“Where are they taking him?” 

“Dean’s hurt. Dean’s hurt. But they’re going to make him okay.”

“What did you do?” John demanded, poking at Sam’s blood soaked shirt. “What did you do to him?”

“Me?” Sam backed away from him. This wasn’t his fault. If anything it was John’s fault. “You’re the one…you…” Sam turned away, right back into the woman and her blanket.

The ambulance was pulling away. “No, I have to go with him.”

“Take it easy. We’ll get you both to him, but right now the doctors need to work on him. Can you boys tell me where your parents are?”

“You just took my father.” John said, his lip trembling. 

Sam sat down on the step, pulling the blanket around him. He was suddenly freezing and shaking. “Dean…looks after me. My dad’s…gone.” Sam said. Gone. His father was gone. And Dean could die.

The skies were starting to lighten. There was the sound of a car door.

“Sam?”

“Bobby.” 

“What the hell happened?”

The woman straightened up and turned to Bobby. “And who are you?”

“A friend of the family. What’s going on?”

“As near as we can figure, the young man ran into a wild dog we’ve been having trouble with.” The woman said. “He’s in bad shape, on his way to the hospital.”

“Sam, you okay?”

Sam shook his head. “He’s gonna die Bobby…he’s gonna die.”

Bobby pulled him into a hug, held him while he shook and cried. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then we’ll go to the hospital, see how he’s doing.”

When Sam looked, the woman was gone. Bobby led Sam and John into the house and helped him change his clothes, wash his face and arms, then settled them both in the back seat of his car.

Bobby held Sam’s hand and Sam held John’s as they entered the ER. “Dean Winchester? They brought him in about a half hour ago?”

The nurse at the desk checked her computer. “Have a seat there. The doctor will be out to see you.”

Sam watched around them. He hated hospitals. Judging from John’s reaction he did too. He held on to Sam’s hand as they waited and he started when Bobby stood to talk to the doctor. When he came back, he sat down again. “He’s in surgery.” 

Sam nodded. That wasn’t good. At least it meant he was still alive.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 17, Sam is 13. John is going on 6. Dean's in bad shape, and it looks like it's going to get worse. Sam's not handling it well. Neither is Bobby. Neither is John.

Sam was starting to understand what people meant when they said time was relative. It stretched out around him, people seeming to move in slow motion, their voices weird and muffled.

Bobby tried to feed them once or twice, but food wasn’t what Sam wanted.

Late in the afternoon, John fell asleep, his head in Sam’s lap. Sam stared down at him, at his hand stroking over his head. There was still blood caked around the edges of his fingernails. He was acutely aware of stupid things; the sound the people’s feet made on the floor, the feeling of Bobby’s hand on his back, the way John trembled even while he slept. 

Beside him, Bobby lurched to his feet and Sam lifted out of his stupor. The doctor was back. Sam roused John and stood too. 

“He lost a lot of blood and there was some significant soft tissue damage. We had to remove a rib, it was shattered beyond repair, and we’re still concerned about his lung.”

“Was he bit?”

“Excuse me?”

Bobby huffed. “The animal. Did it bite him?”

“Yes, although the damage from the claws was much worse.”

The rest of what he said was lost in a haze of white noise. Sam buried his face in Bobby’s side. Dean was bitten. He was hunting a werewolf and he got bitten. He didn’t have to see Bobby’s face to know it was bad. Very bad.

“I want to see him.” Sam said when the voices stopped. He pulled on Bobby’s arm. “I want to see him.”

“Sam, I don’t think—“

The doctor turned to Sam. “Your brother is asleep, Son. He needs his rest.”

“I’m not a child. I want to see him.” Because he was bitten and Bobby was going to put a silver bullet in him eventually. Sam knew he would. Because Dean would turn at the next full moon and become something he didn’t want to be. “I just need to see him.”

“Me too.” John’s hand was in his, squeezing and the doctor nodded.

“Only for a minute.” 

Sam nodded, following as the doctor led them through the corridors and past a nurse’s station. Sam could only just see through the window on the door. Dean’s skin was nearly as white as the pillow under his head. There were tubes and machines. Sam watched his chest rise and fall then took a deep breath of his own.

The doctor pushed the door open. Sam heard Bobby asking a few more questions, but that didn’t matter to Sam, all that mattered was Dean on that bed and John’s hand in his. Family.

John was shaking, his face wet with tears. Sam picked him up, even though he was too big for him. They moved closer to the bed. His father wouldn’t cry at a moment like this. He’d just order Dean to wake up. He’d tell him he was sorry.

Sam was too upset to be sorry.

“Is he gonna die?” John asked, his voice tiny next to the sounds of the machines. His small hand touched Dean’s.

“I don’t know, kiddo.” Sam lied. Even if Dean lived, it wouldn’t be for long. They couldn’t let him. 

“Doctor says he was bitten on the leg.” Bobby said. Sam felt his eyes and looked up. He shook his head and looked away. “I’m going to take a look. Sam, you keep an eye on the door.”

Sam put John down and went to the door, though his eyes were on Bobby’s hands as they lifted the thin hospital blanket and peeled back bandages. Sam couldn’t read Bobby’s face as he smoothed the bandages back and eased Dean’s leg back under the blanket.

“Well?”

Bobby wouldn’t look at him. “We should let him rest. I need to call Jim. Get him up here to watch over you two.”

Sam shook his head. “I’m not a baby.”

Bobby’s eyes glanced at John, then back at Sam. “You’re not old enough to stay alone, Sam. No matter what your daddy might have thought.”

“We aren’t alone. You’re here.” Sam said. 

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“No!” John jumped and grabbed Sam’s hand again. “We can’t leave him here all alone.”

Sam didn’t want to leave Dean either, but they couldn’t stay. “Johnny, I know you’re scared okay?” Sam turned to squat down next to him. “I know. I’m scared too. But the doctors are taking good care of Dean, and we can come back when he’s better.”

“Promise?”

Sam nodded, then stood, lifting John again. “Say goodbye.” John leaned over and kissed Dean’s cheek. 

 

The ride home was quiet but for John’s quiet crying and the sound Bobby’s hands made as they gripped the steering wheel. It was snowing again, looked like it had snowed all night. 

Bobby pulled in behind the Impala. The new snow covered the blood, made everything look like nothing had happened. 

Sam took John’s hand and led him into their bedroom. “Get your pajamas on and I’ll get you some cookies and milk.”

“Not hungry.” John said, though he moved to the dresser. “Not tired.” He pulled his shirt off while Sam sat on his bed watching.

“I know, me too.” Sam should be tired. He hadn’t slept. Not really. It wasn’t quite bedtime, but he knew he should be exhausted. “Want me to read you a story?”

John shook his head as he crawled up into his bed. “Sammy? What happens to me if Dean dies?”

Sam came to sit beside him. “I don’t know, Johnny. I guess we’d both end up with Bobby or Jim or someone.”

John made a face. “Is Bobby staying?”

“For now.” Sam pulled the blanket up and settled it over him. “Why? Don’t you like Bobby?” He handed John Mr. Turtle.

“Not ‘specially.” John made that face again. “He’s old.”

Sam hadn’t really thought about that. To a five year old Bobby would seem old.

“Like my Dad.”

Sam frowned a little, thinking at first he meant Dean. 

“Like my first Dad.” John’s voice was quiet, filled with fear. “Big, and the beard. My dad had a beard.”

Dean had told Sam he thought their grandfather might have hurt John. Sam didn’t remember the old man at all. He’d died when Sam was still a toddler.

“Bobby wouldn’t ever hurt you.” Sam said. “He looks out for us, has since I was your age.” John didn’t look convinced. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll go back and see Dean.”

He kissed John’s forehead just like Dean did every night and tucked him in before heading out to find Bobby.

“Don’t you leave me here with these kids, Jim. Not this time. I can’t.”

Sam froze. This was obviously not conversation he was meant to hear. He flattened himself against the wall in the hallway, glancing around the corner to see Bobby pacing.

“Someone—fuck, the boy went and got himself bit. I gotta deal with that. No, I’m not sure. Fucking goddamn werewolves.”

Bobby’s hat was on the table. He scratched at his head and glanced Sam’s way. Sam ducked back so he wouldn’t be seen.

“Don’t psycho babble me. I can’t. Not again. You get here and you handle the kid. I’ll handle Dean.”

Sam pushed off the wall and stalked into the room, picking up the revolver Dean had given him from the kitchen table. “If anyone has to handle Dean, I will.” Sam said forcefully, looking up at Bobby.

“Shit. Jim, just get here.”

Bobby hung up the phone. “Sam, put the gun down.”

“I mean it Bobby.”

“No you don’t Son.”

Sam shook his head. “Don’t ‘Son’ me. I’m not your son. I’m not his son.” He pointed the gun in the general direction of the bedroom. “I’m no one’s son.”

‘Sam—“

“No. No!” Bobby reached for him, but Sam pushed him away, leveling the gun at him. “No. Dean’s all I have left. He’s mine. You can’t take him. You can’t. I won’t let you.”

“No one wants to take Dean—“

“Stop. Just stop!” His head hurt and he was shaking. He stared at the gun. What was he doing? “Fuck. This is so fucked up. I want my father back. I want him Bobby. I want him right now. He should be here. He should be…and Dean. I want them both back.” He hated that he was crying. Dean wouldn’t cry. Dean would be strong. 

“I know Sam. Just…put the gun down and let me help.”

Sam’s hands shook as Bobby’s hands closed around them, taking the gun from him and putting it back on the table. Sam crumbled into his arms, sobbing into his shirt while Bobby’s hands made soothing circles on his back. He was talking, but nothing he said mattered or made sense. The sound made his chest rumble though and somehow Sam found that soothing.

Eventually Bobby got them moved into the living room, onto the couch. Sam dozed off with his head in Bobby’s lap, unconsciously mirroring John’s position at the hospital.

He was vaguely aware of the television, but not enough to wake up. Not until Bobby yelled and jumped off the couch. Sam jumped, rolled and landed on his ass on the floor.

He couldn’t make out what Bobby said, but he was obviously happy about something and pointing at the television. Sam turned and squinted at it. 

“He’s gonna be okay.” Bobby said finally, picking Sam up off the floor. “Dean—not a werewolf.”

“What?” Sam shook his head, trying to make the words into something that made sense.

“It hit again. Took two horses and injured a guy in the next town.”

“For the fourth night in a row, a wild animal has preyed on the fears of the people of rural West Virginia. These images, captured by the farmer as the beast killed his prized stallion, give us our first glimpse of the creature.”

Four nights. Werewolves only struck on the three nights of the full moon. Dean wasn’t going to turn. They wouldn’t have to kill him. Sam sank onto the couch. He was going to be okay.

“If it wasn’t a werewolf, what was it?” Sam asked.

“Don’t know. Looked big though. When Jim gets here I’ll pick up its trail.” Bobby ran a hand over his face and looked at Sam. “You should get to bed.”

“When is Pastor Jim coming?”

“Maybe tomorrow.” Bobby said, though he seemed distracted now. “He’ll take care of things.”

“Why don’t you like Johnny?” Sam asked suddenly. He got why John was scared of Bobby, but not why Bobby was seemingly afraid of a nearly six year old kid.

“What?”

“You hardly look at him, won’t stay in the same room with him. Why? I thought you and Dad were friends.”

Bobby huffed and walked to the television, turning it off. “I don’t dislike him, Sam. It’s more complicated.”

“It freaks you out.” Sam figured it had to be something like that. “It freaks me out too sometimes. When I remember that he’s my Dad. But if I just think of him as a kid who needs us? I’m okay.”

Bobby shook his head. “It’s not that. I just….he reminds me of someone.”

“Someone bad?”

“Sort of.” Bobby sat in the chair and looked at him. “A few years back there was a boy. Looked a lot like that kid in there. He got bit by a werewolf.”

“You had to shoot him.” Sam said. 

Bobby nodded. “His name was John too. Good kid. Smart, funny. He was six years old. And I killed him.”

Sam moved closer, hugging Bobby. “No werewolves. Just us Winchesters.” 

Bobby hugged him, then swatted him on the butt. “To bed, Winchester.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Sam felt eyes watching him. He rolled over to find John and Mr. Turtle. “Hey.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Sam nodded. John hadn’t slept much since the demon dog thing. It had been almost a week. Sam pulled back his blanket and John crawled into bed with him, pushing his butt into Sam’s stomach. 

He squirmed around until he was comfortable.

“Sammy?”

“Yeah, squirt?”

“Are we going to see Dean?”

“Yeah, later.”

“Is he really better?”

Sam sighed and curled an arm around John. “Yeah. I told you. He’s awake and everything.” Sam got to see him a little more, since he was older. Dean wasn’t himself yet, but he was bitching about the food and hitting on the nurses, so Sam took that as a good sign.

There were flowers in his room from Mr. & Mrs. Afferly and cards from his coworkers. Pastor Jim was living with them, fixing their meals and driving them to school. But this was Saturday. Today they were all going up to see Dean.

“I miss him.”

“Me too.”

“I miss my mom.”

John hadn’t spoken about his mother in a while. It kind of felt sick in Sam’s stomach when he did. “I know.” Sam said softly. Then he realized why John sounded homesick. “Hey, happy birthday.” He hugged John as much as he could with the awkward position. “I got you something.” 

Sam rolled over and pulled the bag out from under the bed. It wasn’t much, but it wasn’t like they had money. He’d just had to have a talk with a certain Toby Haus. John sat up and took the bag, grinning. 

“My hat!”

Sam smiled. “I figured it was time you got it back.”

“Thank you Sammy!” John hugged him, knocking them both backwards.

“What’s all the noise?” Jim asked from the doorway.

Sam tickled John until he squealed and rolled away to escape him. “It’s his birthday.”

“He got me my hat!” John jumped up, bouncing on the bed while Jim laughed.

“Well, I have breakfast ready. You like waffles, right?”

“WAFFLES!” John jumped off the bed and went running past Jim.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Sam said, sitting up.

“I guess.” Jim agreed. He crossed his arms and leaned on the door. “So, you okay?”

Sam nodded. “Dean said they might let him come home.”

“Bobby called, he’s got a bead on the thing.” He looked over his shoulder. “I better go make sure he isn’t making too much of a mess.”

“It’s his birthday, let him make a mess.” Sam said chuckling. “I’ll be out in a minute.” He stood, stretching and padding to the pile of clothes, rummaging through them for a pair of sweats. Everything else was starting to be high waters on him.

They had a week left of school, then they’d be hitting the road. Jim had found them a house not far from him. He was going to make sure that this year they got a Christmas tree.

Sam laughed at the sight of John’s beaming face when he got to the kitchen. He was covered in syrup and powdered sugar and even whipped cream, his hat tipped back, his pajamas a mess. “I made some for you.” John said proudly, pointing to a plate at Sam’s usual place. It was piled with waffles and butter and sugar and syrup and whipped cream.

“Wow.” 

John licked his fingers and picked up his waffle, getting whipped cream on his nose. Sam was reminded of a birthday when he was eight and Dean made cupcakes. They’d tasted like shit, but the frosting was good, and they’d all three ended up with frosting all over when the food fight was over. The only thing missing was Dean.

“We should take some to Dean.” John said, licking his fingers again. It was hopeless, there was more syrup on his body than his plate.

“I somehow don’t think the hospital would like that much.” Jim said.

“When he comes home.” Sam said. “We’ll cook for him, you and me.” 

“We’re going to have to hose you off, young man.” Jim said, wiping his face on a napkin. “I’ll go start a bath.”

Two hours later they walked into Dean’s room at the hospital. He smiled broadly when he saw John and John let go of Sam’s hand to race to the bed. “Careful.” Sam said as John climbed up from the chair beside the bed to hug him.

Dean’s face registered the pain, but he shook his head at Sam when he reached to pull John off. “Hey Kiddo. Happy Birthday.”

John put both hands on Dean’s face and looked him over. “Don’t move.”

Dean smirked, but obeyed. “Watcha doing?”

“Making sure.” John said.

“Of what?”

“That you’re still you.” John said very seriously.

Dean flicked his eyes at Sam, but Sam shrugged. He didn’t know what the kid meant either. Apparently whatever he saw satisfied him though and John nodded before settling in to sit on Dean’s uninjured side.

“We’re good?” Dean asked.

John nodded. “Good.”

“I see you got your hat back.”

John grinned at Sam. “Sammy got it for me.”

“I just had a little conversation with Toby.” Sam said, sinking into the chair. “Told him to stop messing with the kid.”

“Mr. Turtle misses you.” John said. “But Pastor Jim said he had to stay home.”

“I’ll see Mr. Turtle soon.” Dean said. 

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Are we really moving away?”

“Well, Pastor Jim says he knows this great house, where you can have a room all your own, and a big yard.”

“Do we have to go to church?” 

Dean frowned at him. “No. Why?”

“I went once, with my grandma. I didn’t like it. Too much yelling. And the music sucks.”

“Well, we just won’t tell Pastor Jim that. He likes the music.” Dean made a face and John echoed it, then giggled. “How’s school?”

“Mrs. Martin is having a baby. She keeps it in her belly.” John looked up at Dean. “Seems like a strange place to keep a baby, doesn’t it?”

Sam laughed. He’d never really thought of it like that. “Must be something in the air, my teacher’s pregnant too.”

“In the air?” John looked at him. “Mandy said it was in the water. Don’t drink the water.”

Sam snorted as Dean ruffled John’s hair. “I don’t think it’s in the water or the air, kiddo. That’s just…a way to say that it’s happening a lot.”

“So if she didn’t swallow the baby in the water, how did it get into her belly?”

Sam laughed, holding his sides as Dean’s mouth gaped open, trying to figure out how to answer that question. “I—um. Well. How about we talk about that later?”

Fortunately for Dean, John was easily distracted and a few minutes later he was on the floor with a coloring book and crayons. Dean’s face was still red.

“Never want to have that conversation.” Dean muttered. 

“You did with me.” Sam said.

“You were older.”

“Not by much.” Sam sighed. It was the first time he’d been more or less alone with his brother since the attack. “You really scared me.” 

Dean nodded. “I know, Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “No, you don’t. You weren’t there. I was alone and you were…I thought you were dead, Dean.”

Dean’s hand covered his. “Sam, I really am sorry. The thing caught me by surprise. I didn’t realize how bad it was—“

He stopped when he realized Sam was crying. Again. Damn tears. “Hey, Sammy. Look, I’m going to be fine.”

“I lost Dad, Dean. He’s gone. He’s really gone. What if you had died?” Sam looked up at him. “What would we have done?” They both looked to where John was busily coloring a teddy bear. “I would have lost him too.”

Dean obviously didn’t have anything to say to that. Sam drew in a deep breath. “We need you. I’m not you. I tried, but I don’t know how to do what you did for Dad.”

“You did real good, Sam. I’m alive because you did so good. And, I promise it won’t happen again.”

Sam looked up, wanting to believe him. Dean squeezed his hand and met his eyes. “You mean that?”

Dean nodded. “Never again, Sam.”

“Good.” Sam liked the real world so much better than the one where werewolves could take his brother away from him. So much better.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 17, Sam is 13. John is 6. The Winchesters do Christmas.

The house wasn’t one Dean would have chosen, but it was more than they usually ended up in. Some old widow had died and left it to the church. It was in a fairly nice part of town, though he guessed the neighborhood was heavy on the grannies and light on kids for Sam and John to play with.

Still, it was free, and Dean wasn’t one to stick his nose up at that. He unlocked the door with the key Jim had given him and John pushed past him, hauling Mr. Turtle and a duffle bag nearly as big as him.

Sam followed, holding the door as Dean turned back for his own duffle. He grimaced, but did his best to hide it from Sam who had been mother-henning him since he’d gotten released from the hospital.

“It smells like grandma in here.” John said, his nose crinkling. 

It did have an odd smell of antiseptic and rose water to it. “Like grandma, eh?”

“It looks like grandma in here.” Sam amended, fingering the afghan on the back of the couch. 

“Well, grandma or no, it’s home.” Dean said, dropping his bag on the couch. His body was stiff from the drive and his side hurt. He huffed and shook it off. Time for that when the munchkins were in bed. He shut the front door. “Jim said he put some food in the kitchen. Why don’t you two sort out rooms and I’ll get dinner started.”

They both went running for the stairs. It was a four bedroom house, all the space they could possibly need, and provided they didn’t kill each other over who got which room, it would be better than any of the places they’d squatted since the fire.

With a few days until Christmas, and a little over twenty dollars left from his last paycheck, Dean’s first priority was finding work. The problem was, he wasn’t exactly healed. His leg was better, but his stamina was shit. They just couldn’t keep relying on Bobby and Jim to keep them fed.

At least Jim had gotten them started. A quick inventory revealed hamburgers and hotdogs, mac-n-cheese, cereal and milk, peanut butter and bread, plus odds and ends of canned goods that had probably been here since before the old lady kicked it. All the makings of a Winchester feast. 

 

When Sam and John came roaring down the stairs, Dean was setting the table. “I found Christmas stuff in the attic.” Sam said as he sat down. “There’s a fake tree and lights and everything.”

“Sam, we don’t need to be pawing through some dead woman’s stuff.” Dean chastised as he put two hotdogs on his brother’s plate.

“You promised we could have a tree.”

He had promised. “I was drugged at the time.”

Sam punched him and scowled. “We are so putting up that tree.”

“Fine.” It wasn’t like Dean had anything against Christmas, per se. He just wasn’t sure he liked invoking the wrath of some dead granny for it. “Tomorrow. For tonight, let’s just get settled in, okay?”

He sat and played with his hotdog, not entirely sure he was ready for food. His stomach didn’t always play nice with food since the damn demon dog had torn out half his right side.

Sam glared at him. Dean picked up the hot dog and shoved it in his mouth. For a little brother, Sam certainly was pushy.

 

“I understand that you’re still recovering from a pretty bad accident.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably and nodded. “I am. Still a little sore, but I’m better.”

The man Jim had introduced Dean to as Smitty nodded, looking over the piece of paper that told him just how little experience Dean had at working a real job. “Look, I know I’m young, and I don’t have a lot of work experience, but I know cars, sir. My father taught me everything I know. I take orders well, I learn fast.” Dean swallowed and exhaled. He hated resorting to begging. “I really need the job. I have a kid and a brother and I’m all they have in the world.”

Smitty squinted at him, looking him up and down. “I tell you what I’ll do. I got me an old Chevy parked out back. It’s kind of been a project of mine. Been meaning to give it to my son. You show me you know cars. Make it run.”

“Show it to me?”

Smitty nodded and lurched to his feet. He was a big man, solid muscle, nearly six feet tall. He led Dean out the back of the garage and into a snowy yard. The Impala that sat there was in bad shape, rusted out and looking like it had seen the bad end of a wreck. “Nineteen Seventy?”

He nodded and watched Dean approach the car. Dean lifted the hood, wincing when it groaned. “Engine looks doable.” He looked over his shoulder. “I’m going to need to borrow some tools.”

Smitty grinned and disappeared into the garage, emerging a few minutes later with a tool box. He put it on the ground next to the car. Dean looked up from his examination of the engine. “I can get it started, but it won’t run today.”

“You get her to start by the end of the day, I’ll pay you fifty bucks and you can come back tomorrow.”

Dean grinned and held out his hand. “You’re on.”

The car had seen better days. The engine had been neglected, even before whatever wreck had taken out her back end. Dean petted over the engine block. “You’re in good hands now, baby.”

All he had to do was get her to talk to him.

 

The sun was going down. Dean’s fingers were numb with cold as he reached inside the car and turned the key. It cranked, but didn’t turn over. He listened, slid back under the hood and made an adjustment, then turned the key again. 

This time it caught, just as Smitty emerged from the back of the garage. He grinned as Dean stood and held up his hands. The engine sputtered and died almost immediately, but that didn’t matter. 

“She’s going to need a lot of work. And parts.” Dean said, wiping his hand on a shop towel.

“I’ll get one of the boys to tow her into a bay tomorrow morning. She’s your project.”

Dean looked up at him. “You only doing this because Jim asked you?”

Smitty shook his head. “Not only. I don’t really need another hand right now, but Joey in there’s leaving after the new year, and things pick up round March. You need the job. I figure you can work on this and I can pull you when I need you.”

Dean nodded and held out his hand. “I’m not going to argue with you. I do need the job.”

“Here’s the fifty I promised you.” He pressed a wad of bills into Dean’s hand. 

“Thanks.” He shoved it into his pocket. If he hurried, he might even be able to grab a Christmas present or two before he headed home. “So I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

He rubbed at the grease on his hands and started down the road to the church. He’d promised Jim he’d stop in and let him know how it went. The parking lot was empty, except for an old beat up Mustang that looked vaguely familiar. He bounded up the steps and into the church. Jim looked up from conversation with a smallish man. 

Dean looked him over. Like the car, he looked vaguely familiar. Jim came toward him, his smile strained. “Dean.”

Dean nodded, looking around him at the man. “Who’s that?”

“No one. How’d it go?”

Dean frowned at him. The man was coming toward them. “You Winchester’s boy?”

“Mark, I said to let it be.” Jim said, turning to placate the man.

Mark, whoever he was, shook his head. “You told me you he wasn’t here.”

“And he isn’t. This is Dean. Dean, Mark Wallerby. He knew your father.”

“Where is he? I need to see him.” 

Dean shifted uncomfortably. “He’s not here.” He looked to Pastor Jim. “Why do you need him?”

“He’s got something I need.” Wallerby was nervous, agitated. His father had that affect on people. “Something important.”

Dean inhaled sharply. “He didn’t leave anything. I got to go.”

He turned for the door, but Wallerby grabbed his shoulder. “It’s an amulet. Your father got it from a man named Hale.”

Dean yanked himself away. “I said I don’t have it.”

“Well where is your father then?”

“Dead.” Dean said coldly. “My father is gone. Leave us the fuck alone.”

He slammed out of the church, tears stinging at his eyes. It was stupid. Crying. Dean held his side as he slipped on some ice. His father wasn’t dead. Even if it felt like it. His father was sitting at home, with Sam, waiting for Dean.

Dean pulled in a lung full of cold air and pushed the pain away. He had fifty dollars in his pocket and Christmas was only a day away. He huffed and headed for the nearest store.

 

The front window of the house was filled with multicolored lights as Dean stopped outside to hide his presents in the trunk of the car. It wasn’t much, but at least Sam and John would have something to open on Christmas morning.

Dean opened the door to find Sam standing on a chair trying to put a star on top of the fake tree, and John covered in garland, hanging red balls on it. The living room was trashed, covered in Christmas glittering crap. Sam grinned down at him. “Almost finished.”

“So I see.” Dean said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

Sam stuck the star on the top branch and jumped down. “How’s it look?”

“It looks like Christmas.” John said, hanging the ball and standing back. 

“I found stockings and everything.” Sam lifted what looked like homemade stockings.

“Why don’t you two clean up this mess and I’ll heat up some soup.” Dean didn’t want to squash Sam’s Christmas spirit, but he couldn’t get excited about someone else’s recycled stockings. It made him feel like he was just visiting in someone else’s life.

He headed into the kitchen to fish out a couple of cans of soup from the cupboard. 

“Did you get the job?” Sam asked a few minutes later from the doorway.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I start tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”

“I know.” Dean sighed and looked up at him. “We need the money.”

Sam nodded and looked away. “Yeah. I told Johnny I’d take him to the park to see the decorations.”

“Good. Keep you two squirts out of trouble.” Dean stirred the soup. “I’m doing the best I can, Sam.” Ever since he’d come home from the hospital things had been tense between them.

“Me too Dean.” Sam sighed and looked back over his shoulder. “I’m going to go finish up.”

Dean nodded and let him go. It was hard on Sam. Suddenly thrust into Dean’s role, being a big brother. Taking care of John while Dean worked. Just like Dean, Sam was trying to keep their family together, make it work. Only Sam had never had to take responsibility like this. 

Then again, neither had Dean. Not like this. 

Because it was starting to sink in. That this is how it would be from here on out. That Dean would work and Sam would watch John and John would grow up slowly. That Dean had taken his father’s place and Sam had taken Dean’s. 

“Is Santa going to be able to find me?” John asked as he climbed into his seat. 

Dean sucked in air and pushed away the emotion that was bubbling inside him. “What?”

“I don’t live where I used to live.” John tucked Mr. Turtle up under his arm as Dean poured soup into his bowl.

“I’m sure he knows where we are.” Sam said as he took his spot. “Right Dean?”

Dean nodded. “Sure. He’s a smart guy.”

“I didn’t tell him what I want this year.” John blew noisily on his soup. “Like the dump truck. And the bike.”

“You want a bike?” Dean asked.

He nodded. “A two wheeler. Mom was teaching me to ride.” He looked up suddenly, his face scared. He hadn’t mentioned her so casually in a while. “I mean…”

“It’s okay, Kid.” Dean said. “What about you, Sammy? What would you ask Santa for this year?”

Sam looked at him, and Dean could see in his eyes what he’d ask for if he could. Sam turned away, looking into his bowl. “I could use a new backpack for school. And some jeans. I got high waters.”

That much Dean had anticipated. He’d found a few pairs of jeans at the thrift shop, and splurged on a new backpack. It wasn’t a fancy one, but it would do. 

“That’s not what you ask for.” John said, making Sam look up. “It’s Christmas. It should be stuff you want, not stuff you need.”

“Well, you better leave him a note then.” Dean said. “Now, eat your dinner.”

 

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean sat on the edge of his brother’s bed.

Sam groaned and opened his eyes. He looked around the room, then up at Dean. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Dean said. “I need your help.”

Sam sat up, eyeing him suspiciously. “With what?”

“I found a bike out in the shed. But it needs some work. Can you do me a favor tomorrow, before the kid gets up?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“I got a coat of paint on it, but it’s going to need a second coat. Then keep him away from there. When I get home from work I’ll finish it up.”

“I thought you didn’t want us pawing through the old lady’s crap.”

Dean nodded. “I know. But I talked to Jim about it. He said it would be okay.”

“You okay, Dean?”

“I’m fine.” Dean was exhausted, and hurting, but he knew Sam knew that. “What about you Sammy? What about you?”

“I’m good, Dean.”

“No, I mean…what do you really want? For Christmas.”

Sam shook his head. “I have what I want Dean. I have you. And John.”

“We’re going to make this work Sam. I promise.”

 

Dean stumbled out of the bedroom and down the stairs early Christmas morning. Sam and John were already up, the tree lights on. Dean rubbed at his eyes, squinting at full stockings and more presents than he’d actually put under the tree.

“Merry Christmas!” John yelled, wrapping his arms around Dean’s legs.

“There’s coffee.” Sam said with a smile. “I’ll get you some.”

Dean grumbled and inched toward the couch with John still attached to his leg. “Can I open my stocking? Can I? Now? Please?” John was practically bouncing.

“Yeah, yeah. Go on.” He took the coffee cup Sam offered him. He’d been up way too late putting the finishing touches on the bike, which was out on the front porch. In fact, he’d only been in bed a few hours. 

“Pastor Jim stopped by.” Sam said softly so that only Dean could hear him.

That explained the extra gifts. And the stockings. John was on the floor with one of them, the contents dumped all over the carpet. “Candy!” There were chocolates and nuts and little wrapped gifts. “I got a toothbrush and cars!”

Dean sipped at the coffee and tried to wake up enough to pay attention. Suddenly John was there, thrusting a stocking into his lap. “Open yours!”

“Okay, okay, kid. Calm down.” Dean set his coffee aside as Sam retrieved the last stocking. “How do you know which one’s mine?” 

“Sam said.” John answered, going back to his line of Matchbox cars on the floor.

Dean dumped the contents of the stocking into his lap. This felt strange. Christmas had always been a dumpy motel or a diner with a swap of gifts picked up at gas stations and convenience stores. 

“You got a toothbrush too.” John said as Dean sorted through the pile. There was a toothbrush and a comb and socks along with more of the candy and nuts.

“Me too.” Sam said, smiling. “And pens.” He held up an assortment of pens.

“Presents now?” 

Dean nodded and John raced for the tree. Dean cradled his coffee cup and let John tear through his gifts. Sam was a little more controlled, his eyes lighting up when he opened the box filled with books. Dean had found them in the garage, some of them fairly old. They were just his geek brother’s thing too, science and shit. “Thanks.”

Dean just nodded, watching as John got to the box that had his note in it. John pulled the paper out of the box, frowning at it. “What’s this?” He held it up for Sam to read to him.

“It says to look on the porch.” Sam said, smirking. John jumped up and ran for the door. Dean wasn’t entirely sure that the sound he made when he found the bike was even human.

“A bike! A bike! I got a bike!” John ran back and grabbed Dean’s hand, then Sam’s and pulled them toward the door. “A bike!”

“Shit, it’s cold.” Dean said after a minute of standing in the door in nothing but his boxers and t-shirt. “Get in here.”

John left his bike reluctantly, but cheered up when he was back inside. “You have to open my present.” He scampered to the tree and came back with rolled up piece of paper tied with a ribbon. “Sam helped me wrap it.”

Dean sat back down on the couch and took the paper. “Did you make it yourself?”

John nodded proudly.

“He’s been hiding in his room all week working on it.” Sam said.

Dean pulled the ribbon off and unrolled it. The drawing filled the entire page. The left side was filled with a house and the right side had what he assumed was supposed to be the Impala and in the middle there were three people.

“Sam helped me spell.” John said, his voice soft. 

Dean looked up at him, then back at the picture. “John.” Dean’s voice caught. Over the smallest of the people John had scribbled his name, and over the next one was Sam’s name. Over the tallest of them though…Dean swallowed. He ran his finger over the letters. “Dad.” Not Dean. 

“Is it okay?” 

Dean nodded, setting the picture aside and reaching for him. “It’s beautiful.” Dean said through tears he didn’t want to admit, hugging John to him. “It’s perfect.”

“Merry Christmas, Dad.” John’s voice was just a whisper in his ear. 

Dean hugged him closer. “Merry Christmas, John.” He reached for Sam, pulling him into the hug. “You too Sam.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 17, Sam is 13. John is 6. The Winchesters are settling in to their new life. Sam defends a girl's honor and gets the Winchester's invited to dinner. Bobby visits.

Dean blew on his hands to warm them as he headed for the car. The snow was melting and the weather starting to warm, but his fingers were like ice after working on some beat up old pick up with Smitty all afternoon.

“Winchester!” 

Dean turned to look. Pete and Roger jogged up. “Where you off to in such a hurry?”

Dean shook his head. “Home, promised the boys I’d be home.”

“Well, we were planning a little trip out to some clubs, maybe get a little action.”

Dean grinned. They’d been talking all week about some strip joints downtown. “Thanks guys, maybe another time.”

“We know the bouncers, they’ll let you in.” Pete said, thumping him on the shoulder.

“Really, I can’t. I need to get home.”

“What you need, is a woman.” Roger said. “So she can stay home with the kids, and you can go out with the boys.”

“If I had a woman, Roger, what makes you think I’d want to go out with the boys, when I could go home and bang my woman?” Dean twirled his keys and opened the door of the Impala. “See you guys on Monday.”

He chuckled as he headed out. The guys were good to him for the most part and Roger, in particular, was a good teacher. Dean had already learned a lot from him in the few months he’d been working there. Neither one of them was married, though Pete was divorced, and they went out together a lot.

It was nice that they wanted to include him, and he was pretty sure he’d get by on whatever fake ID he wanted to use, his official fake ID had him at twenty now. He’d been eighteen a whole two months, and some days he felt like he was going on forty. 

He pulled into the driveway and climbed out of the car. It was Friday, and he’d promised Sam they could go out to dinner. Which meant he needed to shower off the smell of the garage and find something to wear that wasn’t grease stained.

Dean dropped his keys on the table near the door. Sam looked up from his book, the whole left side of his face was black and blue and swollen.

“Sam, what happened?”

John came out of the kitchen with a towel and a bag of ice. “Just a little misunderstanding.” Sam said, taking the ice bag from John. “Thanks.”

John looked spooked. “He got in a fight.”

Sam held the bag of ice to his face. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“They were big and Sam beat them.”

Sam sighed and looked up at Dean. “Two guys were giving this girl a hard time. That’s all.”

Dean pulled his hand away to look at his face. “Guys? How old were these guys?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know, older than me. Not as old as you.” He pressed the ice back to his face. 

“So, you beat them?”

“Yeah, my face beat the shit out their hands.” Sam said. “The girl got away, and they left when I ducked out of the way and the one guy hit the tree instead of me. I think he broke his hand.”

“He cried.” John said. “The other guy, not Sam. Sammy was brave.”

Sam smiled and ruffled his hair. “I was stupid.” 

Dean disagreed. “I don’t think you were stupid.” 

There was a knock at the door. Dean went to answer it. On the porch was a young girl Sam’s age and what he assumed was her mother. “Mr. Winchester?” 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I guess. Call me Dean.”

The woman smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Margaret Answeld, this is my daughter Elizabeth.”

Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam who was standing now and coming closer.

“Elizabeth said that your…boy…helped her out?”

“Oh, you must be the girl.” Dean turned to Sam mouthing “she’s hot” and Sam rolled his eyes. For a thirteen year old girl, she was a looker. Pretty black hair and green eyes, and judging from her mother, she was going to fill out in all the right places in a few years. “This is my brother.”

Sam pushed him aside. “Hey, I’m Sam.”

“See, Mom, I told you.” Elizabeth said, looking up at her mother. “Those guys have been harassing me for weeks.”

“They’re bad news, Taylor and Thomas.” Margaret offered. “I’ve tried talking to their father, but it hasn’t helped.”

Sam grinned. “I think it’ll be a while before they try anything else.”

“Oh my, look at your face.” 

“I’m fine. Just a little bruise.”

“Well, we’d like to thank you.” Margaret said. “How about dinner? Tomorrow night? Both of you, of course.”

John pushed his way between Sam and Dean, looking up at them. 

“Oh, hello.” 

Dean grinned and ruffled his hair. “This is my boy. John.”

“Well, all three of you then. We’re down the road at 456 Dainridge. Say, six?”

Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to have dinner with this woman and her daughter, but it was obvious Sam did. “Sure, sounds like fun.”

“Great. It was nice to meet you.” 

“Well, my brother the hero.” Dean joked as they closed the door.

Sam punched him in the arm. “Jerk.”

Dean turned him to get a better look at his face. “Better keep the ice on that.”

“I’m hungry.” John declared. 

“Me too.” Dean agreed, picking him up and swinging him around to his back. “Let me grab a quick shower and we’ll go get dinner.”

 

Sam came down the stairs dressed in his best clothes, which weren’t a whole lot better than the rest of his clothes, his hair combed and smoothed down. The bruising on his face was ugly and mottled, but aside from that the kid looked good.

Dean whistled and Sam rolled his eyes. “Sammy, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you liked this girl.”

“Don’t you embarrass me.” Sam said through clenched teeth. “We’re gonna be late.”

“John! Let’s go.” Dean yelled up the stairs.

John came barreling down, stomping in his cowboy boots and hat. He threw himself off the last stair and into Dean’s arms. “I wanna ride!”

Dean swung him up onto his shoulders. “You hold on tight, cowboy. Wouldn’t want you to get thrown.”

John’s hands grabbed Dean’s chin. “No buckin’ bronc can throw me!”

Dean ran for the door, jostling John around. John squealed with delight. Dean ducked so they could get through the door and bounced down the steps. “So much for not embarrassing me.” Sam said as he closed and locked the door.

“Sammy!” John yelled as Dean made for the road. “Come on!”

Dean settled into a walk as Sam caught up, laughing at Sam’s dour expression. “You like this girl? What was her name?”

“Elizabeth.” Sam said. “And yeah, okay? I like her.”

“Okay.” Dean nodded. “John and I will both be on our best behavior, won’t we Kid?”

He looked up at John who nodded. “Best.”

Sam didn’t look like he believed Dean, but Dean just smiled and reached out to ruffle his hair. Sam pulled away and smoothed a hand over it. Margaret was standing on the front porch when they got there, smiling.

“Right on time, please come in.”

Dean lifted John off his shoulders and put him down. “Thank you.”

Margaret followed them in. “You all know Elizabeth, this is my eldest daughter, Sarah. Sarah, this is Dean, his brother Sam and Dean’s son, John.”

Dean smiled as Sarah reached out her hand. Like her little sister, Sarah was a looker, her black hair was pulled back out of her face and a light dusting of freckles dotted her pale skin. She was maybe eighteen, if Dean was lucky. “Son? You must have started young.”

Dean blushed and nodded. “Well, I was quite the hellion when I was younger.”

“Dinner is just about ready, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get the table set.” Margaret excused herself as Sarah turned to Sam.

“Elizabeth hasn’t stopped talking about you. To hear her talk, you saved her life…and her virtue.”

Sam’s blush was spectacular and he sputtered trying to respond. John saved him the trouble. “Sammy hit them and kicked them in the privates.”

Dean laughed and pulled John to him. “I don’t think Sammy needs your help, Kid.”

Sarah led them into the dining room. Elizabeth seemed as unable to talk as Sam was. Dean didn’t remember ever being so awkward around girls. He got John settled into a chair with a napkin around his neck.

Sam grabbed the napkin from Dean before he could do the same to him and Dean grinned before sitting between them. “Smells great.”

“Mom makes the best pot roast.” Elizabeth said. 

There were mashed potatoes and gravy and corn and pot roast. “Make sure you save room for dessert.” Margaret said as she sat. “The girls made a cake together.”

“So these boys been bothering you for a while?” Dean asked Elizabeth after the initial rush of food passing was done.

She toyed with her food and made a face. “They started with teasing me about my dad…and then because I…”

Sarah cut in. “They’re pricks.”

“Sarah!”

“Well, Mom, it’s true. They can’t get a girl their own age, so they go after younger ones. Taylor keeps asking her to be his girlfriend and tries to hold her hand and carry her books.” 

Dean nodded. He’d known enough pricks like that in his life. “Gotcha. Low life scum.” He took a drink from his milk. “Great meal, Mrs. Answeld. Better than we’ve had in a long time.”

“Please, call me Margaret.”

“Okay, Margaret. I’m not much of a cook, I’m afraid.”

A look of concern crossed her face, and Dean anticipated the next question. “My mom died when Sam was still a baby. Dad did the best he could, but…well, he’s gone now too. So it’s just us.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”

Dean smiled tightly. “No, it’s okay. We’re adjusting.” 

“I’m helping.” John said, not really looking up.

Dean looked at Sam, then up at Margaret. “He…well, he came to live with us at about the same time we lost my father.”

She smiled tenderly. “Love always helps heal the sting.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

 

The rest of dinner was unremarkable, except for how quiet Sam was. Normally Dean couldn’t get him to shut up. Margaret sent them home with half the cake and leftovers. 

“So, do you know what happened to their Dad?” Dean asked as they neared the house.

“No. Never asked.” 

John was yawning. Sam’s feet were dragging. Dean stopped when he saw the truck parked in front of the house. Sam grabbed his arm. “Dean, you promised.”

“Just go on inside. Get John ready for bed.” He put the bag of food into Sam’s hands before he headed inside.

Bobby got out of the truck as they got close. “Hey boys.”

“Bobby.” Dean watched Sam and John head into the house. “You want to come in?”

Bobby shook his head. “Can’t stay. Got a job.” Bobby scratched at his head. “Thought maybe you could lend me a hand.”

“You asking me for help?”

“Need another pair of hands.”

Dean saw the movement in the window and glanced up. Sam was watching. “I told Sam I wouldn’t.”

“So you just giving up?” Bobby asked.

Dean cursed and stuck his hands in his pockets. “You make it sound like I’m chickening out or something.”

“I just thought maybe you’d want to pick up where your Daddy left off.”

“Want to?” Dean shrugged a little and looked up at Sam again. “There’s a part of me that does, Bobby. Believe me. There’s a part of me that wants to find the fucking demon that took my mother and tear it apart with my bare hands.” He sighed and shook his head. “But, I can’t. I’m not my father.”

Bobby nodded and sighed. “No, I know.”

“What happens to them if something happens to me?” Foster homes at best. And not together. No one to watch their backs. “Maybe when Sam’s older.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, then Bobby took a deep breath. “You boys okay?”

“Yeah, Bobby. We’re doing good.”

“You call me if you need something.”

Dean nodded and let the older man pull him into a hug. “Come by if you’re in town.” Dean said, though he got the feeling it would be a long time before they saw Bobby again.

Bobby thumped his back and let him go, circling around to get into the truck. Dean waved as he drove off, and swallowed the voice in his head that said he should have gone with him.

Sam met him at the bottom of the stairs. “What did he want?”

Dean exhaled and let go of the feeling he should be out there hunting. It was what his father would have wanted. Dean lifted his eyes to meet Sam’s. “He just wanted to make sure we were okay. He was passing through on his way to a hunt.”

Sam squinted at him. “He didn’t want you to go with him?”

“No, he knows I can’t leave you two alone.” Dean hoped Sam wouldn’t see through the lie. “My life is here now. With you and John.”

Sam was suddenly wrapped around him, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.”

He was gone before Dean could respond, back up the stairs behind his bedroom door.

 

“I think Mr. Answeld was killed by a werewolf.” Sam said without warning a few weeks later.

Dean looked up from under the hood of the Impala and wiped his hands. “What makes you say that?”

Sam crossed his arms. “I’m not stupid.”

“I need a little more than that to go on.” Dean stood up, his eye skipping across the yard to where John was riding his bike. 

“He was mauled on a hunting trip. When they found his body, the heart was missing.”

That did sound like a werewolf. “Could have been anything, Sam.” Dean said anyway. “Not every bad thing is supernatural in nature.”

“Beth cries about it. A lot.”

“Beth?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Elizabeth.”

“You two been spending a lot of time together.” It was just an observation, but Sam groaned and walked away. Dean grinned. 

“Look!” John yelled as he rode past the end of the drive way.

“Good, Kid.” Dean called after him. John turned and grinned at him, just before losing control and toppling over. Dean was half way across the yard before he heard the cry. John was sobbing when he got there and holding his knee. 

His jeans were torn up and Dean could see blood. His hands were scrapped up pretty good too. “Okay, I got you.” Dean scooped him up and carried him into the house, yelling for Sam and the first aid kit. He got John settled on the couch as Sam jumped the last few stairs.

“What happened?”

“Just a little bike accident.” Dean said, settling on the coffee table to hold John’s hands up to the light. “Not too bad. Sammy, get us a wet cloth, would you?”

“It hurts!” Big tears rolled down John’s face. “Dad, it hurts!”

“I know.” None of the scrapes were bad, but Dean knew from experience that those kinds of wounds hurt like crazy. His own tumble had been off a rusted out old bike he’d found in the woods. It took his father an hour to pick all the gravel out of his knee.

Dean took the cloth from Sam and pressed it to John’s palms. “Let’s see if we can save the jeans.” He unbuttoned John’s pants and helped him get them off. John shivered a little, sitting there in his Spiderman undies while Dean bent to look at his knee. 

“Dude, bet this leaves a scar.” Dean said and John sniffled, but looked up with a hopeful grin.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Girls dig scars.”

John made a face. “Scars are manly. Jonas has a scar where they had to cut him open to take bad stuff out of his tummy.”

“Manly, eh?” Dean pulled the antiseptic out of the kit. “This might sting, but you’re manly, right?”

John sat up straight and nodded. “I can take it.”

Dean did his best not to chuckle, and mostly succeeded. He squeezed out some of the liquid and John hissed, though he tried to hide it. Dean blew lightly on the scrape, then took the big Band-Aid Sam was handing him. “Okay, we have to keep it clean or it’ll get all gross. Better?”

John nodded. “Good. Go get some pants on.”

Sam sat on the couch. “You’re really good at that.”

“I had a lot of practice.” Dean said, smiling at his brother.

“I forget sometimes.” Sam’s eyes followed where John had gone scurrying up the stairs. “It hasn’t even been a year and I forget what it was like.”

Dean sat beside him and drew him into a hug. 

“Is it wrong to like him better this way?” Sam asked after a while. “I mean, I love Dad.” He looked up at Dean. “But sometimes I think you’re a better father.”

“It couldn’t have been easy for him, Sam.” Dean said after a long silence. 

“It isn’t any easier for you.” Sam replied, looking up at him. 

No, it really wasn’t. Dean was suddenly very tired. He stifled a yawn. “It isn’t easy for you either. I know.”

Sam shook his head. “I’m fine, Dean.”

“Don’t think I don’t realize, Sam. You were supposed to be the youngest, you were supposed to get to be a kid. Now, you have to look out for him. I’m sorry I have to lean on you so much.”

“I had a good teacher.” Sam hugged him as much as he could in the awkward position. Dean kissed the top of his head and yawned again. “Want me to make dinner?”

“Just give me a few minutes. I’ll do it.”

“I’ll go check on John.”

“He’s probably up there looking at his knee, waiting for it to get gross.” Dean sighed as Sam got up. He closed his eyes, feeling the waves of fatigue wash over him. He’d been pushing hard the last few weeks, working six days at the garage and helping the Answelds with some repairs on Sundays. He’d just rest a bit, then figure out dinner.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 18, Sam is 14. John is 6. John's POV, John and Dean and Sam go to the circus.

“My name is John Winchester.” He wrote it carefully, copying the big letters Sam had written for him for his last name. It was a long name, and it wasn’t easy to spell, even though he was six and a half. He’d spent days practicing.

Sam helped him. Sam was good at the big brother thing. He was super patient, even when John messed stuff up. Like when he mixed up his “b” and his “d”. He was happy he didn’t have either one of those in his name.

The summer was almost over and that meant school. He was going to be in the first grade. That meant he had to be able to spell his last name and know his address and phone number. Sam had helped him ‘member those too.

John didn’t have a big brother before he came to live with Sam and Dean. Not that Sam was his big brother. Not really. Dean was John’s Dad. And Sam was Dean’s brother. At first he hadn’t believed that. He’d never seen Dean or Sam before that morning when he woke up and he wasn’t in his own bed.

But Dean had the paper, and the paper was official. He wasn’t sure what it was all about, or why he never knew Dean before, but Dean was a good Dad. He taught John about cars and stuff. He worked a lot, but Joey Pingleton said that’s what Dad’s did. They worked and made money so that their kids could have cool things like roller blades and Star Wars stuff.

Somedays, John still missed his mother, but not the man that used to be his Dad. Sam said it was okay to miss her. He missed his Mom too, and she’d been gone a whole lot longer than John’s.

“How’s this?” John asked, holding up his paper so Sam could see.

Sam grinned at him. “That’s really good, Kiddo.”

John smiled. Sam called him that a lot. He called him Johnny too. Dean mostly called him Kid. John figured that was because Dean’s Dad was called John too, and Dean missed his Dad a lot. So John didn’t mind too much.

Sometimes, when Dean was tired, and John was in bed and supposed to be asleep, he could hear Dean talking to his father, like he was there. Maybe, if his father were gone to heaven like John’s Pawpaw did, he could hear him. His mom always said Pawpaw could hear him.

Some nights, like this one, Dean fell asleep on the couch and Sam made them dinner. When Sam cooked they had spaghettios and raviolios and toast pizzas. John liked when Sam cooked.

After dinner, John worked on his letters and Sam read his books so Dean could sleep. John looked up at Sam. “Can I ask you a question?”

Sam looked up from his book and yawned. “Sure.”

“So…If Dean is my Dad….” Sam always made that face when John called Dean that. “That makes you my uncle, right?”

Sam closed his book and nodded. “Yes, it would make me your uncle.”

“Delia has an uncle who takes her to see Disney on Ice.” John didn’t think Sam was big enough to do stuff like that yet.

“Does she?” Sam asked. “Does Delia’s uncle let her stay up past her bedtime and read her stories?”

John thought about it for a minute. “Prolly not. He lives in another state.”

Sam grinned at him at tapped his paper. “It’s late. Time to clean this up and head to bed.”

“Okay Sammy.” John put up his pencil and straightened his papers, leaving them at Dean’s spot so he’d see them in the morning. “Is Dean staying home tomorrow?”

Sam nodded as he picked up his book and lead the way to the living room. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. We’re going to the park.”

“Can I ride my bike?”

“Probably.” 

John stopped and turned to where Dean was sleeping on the couch. He kissed Dean’s forehead and whispered. “Goodnight Dad,” in his ear. 

Dean stirred, his eyes opened and his hand rose to ruffle John’s hair. “Night Kid.”

Later, Dean would stumble upstairs to bed and kiss his forehead, but John was usually asleep by the time he did. He followed Sam up the stairs and changed into his jammies before crawling into bed. Sam held up two books. John pointed to the Dr. Suess one before laying back and closing his eyes. Sam would only read if John’s eyes were closed. If he opened them, even a little, Sam would stop.

He knew it was a trick to make his body go to sleep, but as long as Sam read, John didn’t mind. He liked the sound of Sam’s voice.

 

John was awake before anyone else. He jumped out of bed, grabbed Mr. Turtle and went to Dean’s room, crawling up onto the bed to sit and wait. He only got one day to spend with his Dad. He wanted to have the whole thing, from the moment his eyes opened until they closed again at the end of the day.

It took a while, but John didn’t mind waiting. He sat and watched Dean breathe. John was a smart kid. He knew that night time was when Dad’s went away, and his nearly did once. He could remember the way Sam was scared, really scared and Dean was so pale and his breathing was weird and for a while it was like he wasn’t really Dean. So now, whenever John could, he paid attention to the breathing, so he’d know if something was wrong.

Nothing was wrong today though and after a while Dean’s eyes opened and he smiled sleepily at John. “Up so early?”

“Couldn’t wait to see you.” John said, jumping up to lay with him now that it wouldn’t wake him up. Dean pulled him, tight up against his body. John liked the feeling. Dean was strong, his body warm and comforting. He knew he was safe there. Safer than he’d ever be anywhere else.

“Sam says we’re going to the park today.”

Dean pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “We could. But my boss, you remember Smitty?”

John frowned and nodded. Stuff that started like that usually ended with Dean going in to work on his day off.

“Well, he gave me tickets to the circus for this afternoon. I thought you, me and Sammy could go see the elephants and tigers.”

Circus? John brightened. “Really?”

Dean chuckled. “Really.”

John jumped up and around the bed, then raced out of the room to wake Sam. “Sam! Sam! We’re going to the circus!” Sam sat up and grumbled something before getting out of bed and shuffling down the hall behind John. 

“I bet there’s gonna be clowns.” John jumped up on the bed as Sam groaned behind him.

“Clowns?” Dean was chuckling as Sam shook his head. “The circus, really Dean?”

Dean threw a pillow at Sam. “John wants to go, don’t you?”

What kind of silly question was that? John jumped up and down. “Clowns, Sammy! And tigers and lions!”

“And girls in skimpy costumes.” Dean added, grabbing John and tickling him until he squealed and kicked. “Come on. It’ll be fun.” Dean looked up at Sam, then down at John. 

“You know I don’t like clowns.”

John squirmed away from Dean and sat up. “Why don’t you like clowns, Sam?”

“I just don’t.” Sam turned on his heel and left. John scampered after him. 

“But clowns are funny and they make these animals out of balloons and—“

“Just stop.” Sam stopped in the kitchen doorway and John nearly ran into him. “They’re just…freaky okay?”

“Sam’s scared of clowns, Kid.” Dean said as he came up behind him.

Well, John could kind of understand that. They were weird. And the one that came to his birthday party the year he was five was kind of creepy. John went to where Sam stood pouring cereal into bowls for breakfast and put his hand in Sam’s. “It’s okay, Sammy. You can hold my hand when there’s clowns. I’ll hold your hand when there’s stuff that scares me too. Okay?”

 

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” Sam said through clenched teeth as they went through the doors, giving the man in the yellow jacket their tickets.

John thought maybe it was a good time to remind Sam of their deal and slipped his hand into Sam’s. Sam looked down at him and gave him a little smile. John reached out for Dean’s hand too and the three of them went in search of their seats.

He was excited. There were lots of people, kids and grown ups, even old people. 

“Okay, looks like this is us.” Dean pointed at three seats in the middle of a row, only five rows up from the rings. 

“Wow.” John stood on his chair, looking around them. There was a lot to see. There were already clowns on the floor, but mostly on the other side. He could see the trapeze set and a big cage. He’d never been to the circus before. The lights flickered and then a huge spotlight came on in the middle. John sat down between Sam and Dean, eyes wide. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome!” A very tall, thin man stood in the center ring, talking into a microphone. All around him, clowns were tumbling and running. John laughed as a lady clown in a big pink dress threw confetti all over another clown.

Beside him, Sam made a strange noise. John looked at him. His face was white and his hands were holding the arms of his seat. John pried his fingers loose and twined his fingers through Sam’s. “It’s okay Sammy. I got you.”

There were motorcycles in a big ball and elephants that danced. The lions were angry sounding and John almost ended up in Sam’s lap when one of them charged at the man with the whip. The ponies were boring, The acrobats were cool at first, but John found himself dozing off as they went on and on. He missed part of the trapeze act, but Dean woke him for the high wire. 

There were two guys and a girl and they did tricks. The girl fell once, but the big giant net caught her. The net looked like fun. Like it was part catcher’s mitt, part trampoline. He wondered if they could get one. They could put it up in the back yard.

Dean bought him cotton candy from the guy who walked through the stands and a giant soda that the three of them shared. 

The little dogs in tutus were stupid, but that was okay because they had a lady on a horse doing tricks at the same time, so John just watched her. Then there were more clowns, some with toys that they threw into the stands. John forgot about Sam being afraid while he tried to catch one of the toys. He got a water gun, with Dean’s help. 

He climbed back into his seat and remembered. “Here Sam.” He gave Sam the water gun. “See, not all clowns are scary.” Sam smiled at him.

“Thanks, but you should keep it.”

“I’ll let you play with it whenever you want to, okay?”

Sam ruffled his hair and John settled in for the end of the show. By the time it was over, he had to pee really bad and he was really tired. Dean leaned over him. “You hold our hands and don’t let go, okay?”

John nodded and took Dean’s hand, then Sam’s. Everyone was leaving at once. It was scary how many people were there. They stood and Dean got them moving. Sam gave up holding his hand in the crush. Instead, Sam’s hands grabbed John’s shoulders, his body close behind him. John stumbled a little on the stairs, but Sam helped him up. 

“Keep moving Johnny.” Sam said in his ear. 

John nodded and concentrated on making his feet move up the stairs. Suddenly the weight of Sam’s hands were gone and John whirled, tugging on Dean’s hand. “Sam!” John yelled, but the sound was lost in the crowd.

Dean pulled on him and John pulled back. “Sam!” Dean’s hands grabbed him, lifted him and pulled him out of the crowd. “We lost Sam!” John said, tears stinging his eyes. He’d promised Sam he’d help him not be scared.

Dean turned, his eyes looking over the crowd. “He’s a big boy, Kid. He’ll find us. We’ll just stand where he can see us.”

He was a little afraid though too. John could see it in his eyes. “I gotta pee, Dad.” John said when he was afraid he couldn’t hold it. 

Dean nodded. “Okay. We’ll go to the bathroom. Maybe that’s where Sam went.”

John kept looking for Sam, but he had to go, really, really bad. By the time their turn in line came, John was squirming against Dean, trying to keep from wetting his pants. Dean put him down to do his business and helped him zip his jeans up when he was done. 

“We have to find Sam.” John said urgently.

The crowd wasn’t as thick as they came out of the bathroom and Sam was standing in the same spot they’d been waiting before going pee was more important.

John broke free of Dean and ran to Sam, wrapping his arms around him and holding on tight. “Sam. We lost you.” His voice was muffled by Sam’s stomach.

“I’m okay, buddy.” Sam said with a smile. “Just got shoved a little in the crowd.”

“I was scared the clowns got you.” John said, blinking back the tears.

Sam hugged him. It felt good. 

“Okay you two, let’s get out of here.” Dean picked John back up and together they went to the car. It was dark out and John yawned as Dean buckled him into the back seat.

“Thank you for taking me to the circus, Dad.” John said sleepily. “I had fun.”

“I’m glad.” Dean kissed his forehead and shut his door. John was asleep before they’d pulled out of the parking spot.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 18, Sam is 14. John is 6. Dean takes Sam and John to their open houses at school and learns that maybe he's been worried about the wrong boy...and maybe he's been holding his breath, waiting for something that isn't ever going to happen.

"Mr. Winchester, a pleasure to meet you."

Dean dusted his hand on his jeans, rubbing off the crumbs from the piece of coffee cake he'd snatched from the refreshment table. "This is Mrs. Gabriel, Dad." John said as Dean reached out his hand to shake.

"Right, Johnny says you're smarter than anyone he's ever known." Dean said with a smile.

She laughed, a happy sound. "He's pretty darn smart himself."

John beamed up at Dean. "Why don't you go find Sammy and show him the thing with the fish?" Dean said, watching as John tore off toward the back of the room where the class artwork was posted. "He's excited."

"He's a good kid." Mrs. Gabriel said.

"But?" Dean could sense the word, even if she hadn't said it.

"He's a challenge."

Dean turned to watch him pulling Sam toward his drawing. "That he is. Something I should worry about?"

"I wouldn't say 'worry' exactly. I was wondering about his mother?"

Dean exhaled and nodded. "She's gone. Died about a year ago. Why?"

"He's mentioned her a few times, but he always withdraws right after."

They were a month and a half past the one year mark. John had been funny about things since he realized. Dean had caught him crying in his room at night a couple of times. "It's been a rough go of things for him."

"I was also wondering if you knew about his penchant for telling scary stories?"

Dean cocked his head to look at her. "Stories?"

"We have story time. So far he's told a story about a man who turns into a wolf on the night of the full moon and eats the hearts out of valentines and one about a woman who was so in love with her husband that she didn't leave him even after she died."

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but wasn't sure what. He closed it again and shrugged.

"He has a wonderful imagination. I just worry about what he's getting exposed to that he expresses himself like that."

"I don't know." Dean answered, inhaling deeply. Actually, he sort of had an idea. Both of them sounded like things that were in his father's journal. "He doesn't tell me stories like that. He doesn't get much television."

"I've asked him to bring us a happy story next time."

"Happy. Right. We'll work on it."

"Aside from that, your son is a great kid. He's ahead of the rest of his class in math and reading, and he participates well."

Dean glanced over his shoulder to check on John and Sam, then looked back at Mrs. Gabriel. "He's had some issues making friends his own age, I'm not sure how to help him."

She smiled. "He does seem to like older students and adults. Our janitor, Mr. Wooley is his current favorite, but you see that boy there?" She pointed with her chin. "Jeffrey Hallows. He and John spend a lot of free time together. They have a few things in common. His mother died a year or so ago too. Terrible story. Jeffrey found her body in the pool."

Dean turned and watched as John and Jeffrey whispered together, then took off running toward the play area. "That is terrible." Dean murmured. At least Johnny didn't have that this time around. "Well, thank you for your time, Mrs. Gabriel. I still need to get to Sam's school for his open house. I should go."

She shook his hand again. "I think it's pretty incredible, Mr. Winchester, the way you're raising your brother, on top of your son. It can't be easy for a man as young as you to be burdened with so much so quickly."

"Family isn't a burden, Mrs. Gabriel." Dean responded, beckoning Sam and John with the wave of a hand. "Come on boys, let's go see if Sam's school is anywhere near as cool as this one."

 

Of course, Sam was in high school, and being the geek boy he was, had all of his teachers eating out of the palm of his hand. All except one. His gym teacher. 

Sam did his best to steer Dean away from the gym all together, but Mr. Hanson wasn't about to let that stop him from talking to Dean. He caught up with them in the cafeteria where various school organizations had booths set up in the hopes of recruiting while parents and students enjoyed tepid fruit punch and cookies.

"Mr. Winchester? I'm Coach Hanson." Dean turned from Sam's groan to shake the coach's hand. "Your brother here seems to be avoiding me."

"Well, Sammy's the geek in the family. He's always tried to get out of the physical work." Sam punched him in the arm.

"It's obvious he gets his exercise." Coach Hanson crossed his arms and looked Sam up and down. "He's strong, he can do the work. I've been trying to convince him to get involved in a sports program."

"I'm not interested, Mr. Hanson." Sam said from beside Dean. "I told you. I'm busy at home."

"I think it would do him some good to get involved, learn some team work. A boy his age needs friends."

"I have friends." Sam said indignantly. 

Dean turned to look at him. He'd been worried about John, not Sam. "Other than Elizabeth?"

Sam blushed and turned away. "Dean, let's go. Come on. Let's just go." He pulled on Dean's arm.

"Okay, okay. Thanks Coach. I'll talk to him." He waited until they were at the car and he was helping John buckle up in the back seat. "What was that about?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "He's a nosy bastard."

"He seemed concerned."

Sam huffed and crossed his arms. "I'm not exactly popular boy, and he seems to think that joining the basketball team would fix it."

"It might." Dean said as he started the car. "What gives?"

Sam pouted and looked away. 

"Sam?"

"Dad…Dad never let us join stuff."

Dean's eyes jumped to the rearview mirror and John who was busy playing with some cars he'd left on the seat. "Well…things are different now." He pulled them out of the parking lot and headed for home. "Dad's not here."

Sam looked over the seat at John, then up at Dean. "Doesn't matter anyway. Someone needs to look out for him, and practices are after school." He sighed and shook his head. "Can we just drop it?"

"Yeah, sure. Consider it dropped."

Only, Dean wasn't sure he wanted to drop it. He'd been so wrapped up in making sure John was okay, in making enough money for them to live on, that he hadn't noticed Sam was floundering a little. He'd have to pay more attention, take some of the load off his brother. 

"I got homework to finish." Sam muttered as they pulled in to the driveway, disappearing into the house and up to his room. 

"Come on kiddo. Let's get you ready for bed."

"Will you read me a story?" John asked as he skipped up the stairs. 

"Maybe." Dean followed him into his room. When they'd first moved in the room had been a little on the feminine side, with yellow walls and floral curtains. It was beginning to look more like a boy's room now, with cowboy curtains and sheets on the bed. John's toys seemed to multiply, filling the corner with the toy box and spilling over onto the floor.

John got into his pajamas, then climbed up onto the bed. Dean sat beside him. "So Mrs. Gabriel tells me you like to tell scary stories."

John's eyes got big. "She told you that?"

Dean grinned. "Yeah, she did."

"Well, I don't think they're scary. I think they're cool."

"Thing is, I need to know where you learned them."

John wouldn't meet his eyes, his face turning red. "I just learned them."

"John. I thought we agreed to be honest about stuff."

"Oh, alright." John leaned over the side of the bed and pulled the worn leather journal out from under the bed. 

Dean nodded slowly. His father's journal. "Where'd you find that?"

"In the car." He ran his hand over the cover. "It had my name on it." He opened the front cover and pointed to the "John Winchester" in his father's handwriting on the first page.

"Do you know why it has your name on it?" Dean asked, reaching for it.

"I guessed it was your Daddy's." John said.

Dean nodded. "Yes, it was."

"It has great stories in it. I can't read them all, the words are weird and sometimes the writing is all wrong." John scooted closer. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

Dean wasn't mad, but he couldn't seem to make the words come out. He could see his father's hands holding the book, writing in it, jotting notes and copying details out of books at Bobby's before a hunt. 

"Dad?"

Dean took a deep breath, pushing back unexpected emotion. "No, I'm not mad."

"Sometimes, I like to pretend I'm him." John said as he laid down. "He must have been a great guy."

"Yeah, kiddo, he really was."

"Do you miss him?"

Dean cleared his throat and nodded. "Yes. Sometimes I miss him a whole lot. Get some sleep." He kissed John's forehead and got up, turning off the light as he left the room. He made it as far as his own bedroom before he started shaking. He swallowed down the lump of emotion and closed the bedroom door behind him.

A whole year had passed. 

Tears burned the corners of his eyes. A year, and Dean was still just holding on. Holding it together. Waiting. Like his father was just on an extended hunting trip, and he'd come back some day. 

But he wasn't coming back, and this was what life was going to be like. It was him and Sam and John. And Sam deserved to have the things he wanted. He deserved friends and sports and stupid school shit. The things they'd never been able to have because Dad didn't want them getting too attached, too close to people. He deserved girlfriends and dating and all the shit that went with being in high school.

Dean shoved the journal into the closet, up on the shelf behind some boxes. This was their life now. And Dean was going to make sure that it was good. 

 

The first step in this new plan was that Dean needed to take some of the load off of Sam, give Sam some free time that wasn't all about taking care of the kid. He remembered Margaret Answeld telling him about some after-school program that might be good for John, with swimming lessons and other things to keep kids busy until working parents could pick them up.

Sarah worked for the center that sponsored it, so he'd at least have someone around he kind of knew. So Dean arranged to take Monday afternoon off of work and headed down to the center.

"Well, well, look what the wind blew in." Sarah said with a grin as Dean stopped in the lobby.

"Hey."

"I'm guessing you aren't here just to see me."

Dean smiled and winked at her. "I don't know, you're awful nice to look at."

"Flattery will win you brownie points, but not much else, Mr. Winchester." She handed off some paperwork she had in her hands to the receptionist. "You finally coming around to enroll John?"

"I'm thinking it would do him some good, more time with other kids…give Sam a break."

"Come on back, I'll get you started on the paperwork."

An hour later, Dean was starting to see cross-eyed, but he finished filling out all the forms she'd given him. The price was a little daunting at first and Dean hesitated. Sarah saw the look on his face and touched his hand. "Don't worry. First two weeks are free. We'll process your paperwork, and you'll probably qualify for a discount, seeing as you're a single father."

"Really?" Dean didn't like the idea of charity. He'd always worked for what he needed.

"Really. We get state funding to help. We want the kids who need this kind of program to get it." She sorted through his papers and pointed out one that needed his signature. "So, the bus picks the kids up at the school, you'll need to give this to the office so that they'll release him to our driver." 

Sarah handed him back one of the forms after she signed it. "They get a snack, and play time. Then they get time to do any homework. We have volunteers from the high school that help out. Tuesdays and Thursdays are swim lessons. Fridays we have story time, with community volunteers coming in to read to the kids."

"Is it okay if I bring him by after school today, show him around?" Dean asked as he stood.

"Sure." She smiled and stood too, leading him back to the lobby. "We'll see you then."

Now all he had to do was convince Sam that this was the right thing to do. John would love it, Dean was fairly sure. 

John was surprised to see Dean waiting for him when his class came out of the school, his smile huge as he ran up to him. "What are you doing here, Dad?"

Dean waved at Mrs. Gabriel and ruffled John's hair. "Well, I took the afternoon off of work so I could spend some time with you."

"Dean?"

He looked up as Sam stopped beside them. "Hey."

Sam frowned at him. "Why aren't you at work?"

"He took the afternoon off." John said, squinting up at Sam in the late afternoon sun.

"Really? Why?"

"I have a surprise for you. Come on."

John chattered excitedly about his day and his friend Jeffrey while Sam sat quietly beside Dean in the front seat. Dean pulled into the parking lot at the center and got out of the car. John clambered out beside him. "This is where you'll be coming after school from now on." Dean said, picking John up. 

There was small bus just pulling up as Dean headed for the door. 

"Jeffrey!" John called, wiggling until Dean put him down. He ran to his friend who was getting off the bus.

"What is this Dean?" Sam asked quietly beside him.

"It's an after-school program." Dean responded, following the line of kids inside. "I figure it'll be good for him."

"We can't afford this."

"Let me worry about the money." Dean said.

"Dean." Sam's hand was on his arm. 

Dean turned to face him. "Look. Sam. You're in high school. You don't need a six year old kid hanging off of you all the time. I'll make this work. Besides, look at him."

John was laughing with Jeffrey and another boy. "Normal kids do stuff like this. They take swimming lessons and play sports and have friends."

"Since when are we normal kids?" Sam asked, his voice bitter.

"Since now, Sam. Since right now."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 18, Sam is 14. John is 6. Sam joins a team, while everyone around him seems to be trying to fix him up, even John. Dean falls ill and John asks a lot of questions.

There are things Sam is careful about. He knows, no matter what Dean says about the money, that there isn't enough of it. So he borrows his books from the library and returns them on time. He uses one piece of paper for each assignment, even though it sometimes means he has to write really small. 

He makes sure the lights are off, wears the extra shirt instead of turning on the heat, and sometimes he doesn't take a lunch so that there's more for John. He's pretty sure Dean doesn't know. 

He figures it's better if Dean doesn't. Dean is tough enough to deal with some days. Not that it's his fault, Sam doesn't blame him. In some ways, Dean is turning into Dad. He works and comes home grumpy. He complains about his back bothering him and sometimes he drinks, though Sam never really is sure where he gets the booze.

Sam gets it. He really does. Dean is becoming Dad and Sam is becoming Dean. The only one not really changing all that much is John, and really, he's the one who's changed the most.

All of that ran through Sam's mind as he sat with the list of after school activities in his hand. It was nearly Thanksgiving. He had to decide soon or it would be too late to join any of them. And he had to. Or Dean would never shut up about it.

He wanted Sam to make friends. He wanted Sam to do stuff. All the stuff they never could do. All the things Dean never got to do. Sam knew he'd wanted to. He knew about the football practices Dean watched his whole freshman year. He'd never asked if he could. He'd known Dad would say no.

But now, Sam was Dean, and Dean was going to make sure he did those things, whether Sam wanted to or not. He'd already crossed most of the sports off the list. Sports meant good shoes, cleats and doing laundry a whole lot more often than they did now. Victory celebrations and consolation parties. They meant money that Sam knew they didn't have.

He sighed and glanced at the clock. The bell was going to ring. He huffed and grabbed up his books. He had time to stop in to see Mr. Dimas if he hurried. Sam liked his history teacher, even if he was a bit…well, odd. He wore Birkenstock sandals, even in the winter, and he smelled of Patchouli oil. Dean called him an out of date hippy.

"Mr. Dimas?" Sam poked his head in the room and Mr. Dimas turned from the board.

"Samuel, what can I do for you?"

Sam licked his lips and stepped into the room. "I was wondering if you still had room for a freshman on the debate team."

Mr. Dimas looked him over, nodding slowly. "You'd have a lot of catching up to do, our next meet is right after the holiday."

Sam nodded. "I know. I spoke with Katy and Tyrell. They said they'd help bring me up to speed."

"We work Monday, Wednesday and Fridays here after school."

Sam smiled. "Good. I'll be here."

 

He slipped into his seat with seconds to spare, glancing at the clock before leaning over to get his algebra book out of his backpack. Elizabeth poked him from beside him.

"Almost late."

"Almost doesn't count."

"Marcy said there's a quiz."

Sam rolled his eyes as Mrs. Dunlop tapped on her desk with her yardstick to get the class to pay attention. She certainly liked her quizzes. Fortunately for Sam, algebra was proving to be far easier for him than Mr. Blake's science or Mrs. Tennison's home economics class.

Elizabeth wasn't so lucky. She spent nearly an hour every night with him going over the class work and borrowing his notes. She was going to be upset about the whole debate club thing.

He figured he'd tell her on the walk home, and promise he'd still help her as much as he could. Truth was, he felt bad for her. And kind of responsible for her too. It wasn't what Dean teased him about though. The more Sam got to know her, the more he liked her, just not like that. She was like a sister.

Whereas Dean and Elizabeth's older sister seemed to be doing just fine on that front. Sometimes Sam envied Dean's ability to charm people, especially people he was attracted to. That was one Dean characteristic Sam wasn't magically channeling anytime soon.

"Is it weird?" Elizabeth asked as they closed their lockers and headed out into the cool autumn afternoon.

"Weird?" Sam frowned down at her. "What?"

"Not going to pick up John."

"A little." Sam conceded. So much about life was weird…for him anyway. He'd spent years moaning that he wanted a normal life and now that he had been handed one, he wasn't really sure what to make of it.

Some days it felt like he was holding his breath, like he'd wake up to find it was all a dream, and John was Dad and Dean was Dean and they were packing up to move on to the next town, the next hunt. 

"You ever feel like you're sort of…stuck…like you're just waiting for your life to start?" she asked as they took the turn through the park where they'd first met.

"Yeah, I do." It was a feeling Sam was very well acquainted with. "So, Beth. I joined the debate team."

She looked at him strangely. "I thought you didn't buy into all that extra-curricular stuff."

"I don't…exactly…but, Dean's been riding my ass to make friends and shit." He rolled his eyes. "If I didn't join something he was going think there was something wrong."

"Debate team, huh?" She scuffed her foot along the path. "Isn't Matt Flick on debate?"

"Is he?" Of course, Sam knew he was. Matt Flick was the junior class president, debate team captain, and on the swim team. He was the object of every fantasy of every girl in the school. Matt Flick had been the one who first invited Sam to join debate after Sam negotiated his way out of paying for milk in the school lunch line because the carton's expiration date couldn't be read. "I guess."

She smirked at him, bumping his shoulder. "Yeah, whatever."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Sam asked.

"Like you don't know."

He frowned. He really didn't. "No, I really don't."

She stopped and faced him, hands on her hips. "Are you still in denial?"

"About what?" He felt silly standing there in the middle of the park staring down at her.

"He likes you."

Sam shook his head. "I don't even know him."

"What's not to know? Killer smile, dimples to die for, a rocking set of abs, hair that rivals yours. And he likes you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She closed her eyes. "You're impossible."

"Beth, really. I don't know what you mean."

She threw her hands up and went back to walking. "Men. Stubborn. Stupid."

Sam stared at her back, then lurched forward to catch up with her. "How about Susan Blackmar?"

"What about her?" Sam asked.

"Did you notice she kept bending over where you could look down her shirt?"

"When?"

"In the library during English class?"

"I think you're hallucinating." Sam stopped, grabbing her shoulder. He was starting to catch on. "Wait. Are you saying that Matt Flick and Susan Blackmar…that they both like me…like the same way?"

Elizabeth bonked him on the forehead with her books. "Bingo! Give the man a prize."

Sam shook his head. "No. You're imagining things."

"Am I?"

"Well, first of all, Matt Flick isn't gay." Sam was pretty sure about that. In a school the size of theirs, that kind of information would be pretty well known pretty damn fast.

"No?" They got to the end of the park where they would part ways to go home. "If you say so. Just, watch yourself around Susan. She's a slut. I have to go, I've got about five hours of homework."

Sam watched her go, still frowning as she headed up her driveway. Why she would think that Matt Flick was even gay was beyond him…or why she thought Sam was, for that matter. Or maybe she was just fishing. Not that he had a problem with it…he just…he'd never really thought about it. 

He _had_ thought about Susan Blackmar though. She was skuzzy, even by Dean's standards. Sam shuddered and headed for home. He was surprised to find the Impala in the driveway.

"Dean?" he called as he dropped his books by the door.

"Kitchen." 

Dean sneezed as Sam came into the kitchen, loud and one look was all Sam needed to know he wasn't well. His eyes were red and running, his nose was bright like Christmas lights and there was a fine layer of sweat on his face.

"You okay?"

Dean's expression was the next best thing to him actually calling Sam a moron. "Smitty was kind enough to share his cold." Dean was really congested. He sank into a chair, eyeing the cold medicine he had spread out around him.

Sam came around the table to press his hand to Dean's head. "You're pretty hot."

Dean nodded miserably. "I called Sarah, she's gonna bring the squirt home. I'm going to take something and go to bed."

"Probably a good idea." Sam sorted through the drugs. Apparently Dean had bought half the cold meds on the market. He held up the Nyquil. "Dad always took this."

Dean grinned weakly. "Probably because it has the most alcohol in it." He took the bottle anyway and cracked it open, taking a big swallow. "You okay with dinner and stuff?"

"Go, sleep. I'll disinfect the kitchen."

"Funny."

Dean shambled off, Nyquil bottle in hand. Sam cleared the table, shoving the piles of medications into the drawer by the sink before going to get his books. Might as well get the homework done before John came home.

 

"Dad! Sam!"

Sam looked up from his algebra homework. It was almost six. He pushed the chair back and headed out to the front of the house where John was peeling off his coat. Sarah stood in the doorway. 

"Hey, thanks for bringing him home."

She smiled. "Your brother sounded pretty sick."

"Dumb cold." Sam said, half gesturing toward the stairs. "He took some stuff and went to bed."

"I hope he's okay."

"He will be, I'm sure. Nothing keeps Dean down for long."

"Okay, well, I better get home. Tell him I said hello."

John tugged on Sam's arm as Sarah closed the door behind her. "What's wrong? Why didn't he come get me?"

Sam squatted next to John. "Dean's just sick, buddy. He's okay. Just needs his rest." 

John's lip was quivering. "Sick?"

"It's just a cold. He'll be fine."

"He didn't come and get me and I was alone." John said, obviously fighting back tears now. "I was afraid he forgot me."

Sam drew him into a hug. "Never. He loves you. He loves you very much. Okay?"

John drew his sleeve under his nose, wiping it before he nodded. "Okay."

"Hungry? I'll make us some ravioli."

"I like ravioli." 

"Did you get all your homework done?" Sam asked as they headed into the kitchen.

"Misty helped me. She's cute."

Misty was an eighth grader whose brother was in John's class. She hung out at the center and helped the younger kids with their homework. And, Sam had to agree, she was cute. Blond hair, blue eyes. Sam blinked as he realized something. His father wasn't even seven years old, and he already had a type. Misty could have been Mary Winchester, if Mary was alive and thirteen years old.

"Little old for you, isn't she?" Sam asked as he dumped a can of ravioli into a pan.

"Sam!" John punched him in the hip. "I meant for you."

"Why is everyone trying to pair me up today?"

"Can I have beer?"

"I think we're out." Sam opened the fridge. "Yep, no more beer. But we've got lemonade."

John made a face. 

"Chocolate milk?" 

That got him a nod, so Sam set about making him a glass. They ate quietly until John looked up at him, his face suddenly serious. "Sammy, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, Kid. Shoot."

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

Sam put his spoon down and looked at John closely. John didn't seem to notice, his eyes were on his bowl. "Well…I don't know. Why?"

"I think the pool has a ghost." 

He said it so calmly. Sam wasn't sure what to think. "Why do you say that?"

"That book, the one Dad took away, with my name in it? It said stuff about ghosts. And, I heard that a kid named Tommy Jacobs died in the pool like a hundred years ago, and now the water in the shower area turns on by itself and there's strange noises in the water and yesterday Andrea said something pulled on her leg." John stuffed a ravioli in his mouth and looked up at Sam while he chewed. "I'm not sure I believe Andrea though. She tells stories…and not the good kind. She once told me that her mother was an alien from Venus and her brother touched her in the bad place."

A ghost. In the pool, in the center where John swam every Tuesday and Thursday. Sam cleared his throat. "Um, well. Does this ghost hurt anyone?"

"It's a ghost." John said, as if that explained everything.

Sam wasn’t sure if he should be more concerned about the idea of a ghost, or about Andrea telling John her brother touched her.

"How about if I come by tomorrow and have a look around?"

John smiled, his face covered in sauce. "That would be cool! I can show everyone that my big brother is the best! Can you dive off the big diving board Sammy?"

"Yeah, but you know? We should probably keep the ghost stuff to ourselves, okay?"

"Right. Family business."

There was something in his tone that was so reminiscent of his father that Sam had to look to be sure. "Okay, how about a bath, and a story before bed?"

 

John played in the bath tub for nearly an hour while Sam scoured the house looking for his father's journal. Dean must have hidden it away.

He headed back to the bathroom, only John was gone. He heard voices though and followed them to Dean's room. John was already in his pajamas, sitting cross legged on the bed with "Hop on Pop" in his lap. One chubby little finger was following the words in the book.

Dean was awake, sort of, his eyes watching John's face as he sounded out the words. Sam watched from the doorway until John was done, looking up at Dean in triumph.

"Good, Kid. Thank you." Dean said, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

"I want you to get better." John said, putting the book aside.

"I'm sure I will." Dean coughed into his fist and John jumped off the bed, pulling the blankets up and tucking them around Dean. "You're taking very good care of me."

"You're my family." John kissed Dean's forehead. "It's my job."

"Okay, let's get you into bed too." Sam said. 

"Night Dad."

John put the book away on his shelf and climbed into bed. "Sammy, are we going to go to Pastor Jim's for Thanksgiving?" John asked as he pulled his blankets up.

"Probably." Sam answered. As holidays went, Thanksgiving wasn't really high on the Winchester play list, but it meant something to Pastor Jim, so they'd probably go and help with the early meal at the shelter by the church before they settled in to eat with the priest and the others he'd taken under his wing.

"Is Pastor Jim a Winchester too?"

Sam tucked the blankets in around him. "Well, he's like an honorary Winchester."

"What's that mean?"

"He isn't really one, but we treat him like one because he's a good friend."

"Can I ask you another question?"

"You ask a lot of questions." Sam said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.

"That's what Mrs. Gabriel says too. So can I?"

"Yeah, sure. One more. Then it's lights out."

"Do you think Misty is cute?"

Sam wasn't going to answer that question. He kissed John's forehead and went to turn off the light. "Good night."

The last thing he need was his not quite seven year old father fixing him up with some girl who would only remind Sam of his mother. His life was complicated enough. He closed his bedroom door and undressed for bed. He was only fourteen. He shouldn't have to worry about the whole mess of dating and girls…or boys for that matter. Not yet. Even if Dean did start when he was fourteen. 

He dropped into bed and let his mind wander over the images of Misty and Susan. Two complete opposites. Misty was a year younger, blond, girl next door type. Susan was his age, already had a reputation as a slut who would go to second base on the first date, and she had long, black hair she liked to play with. 

Neither one of them did much for him. He put them both out of his mind and tried to sleep. It was silly. Stupid even. He was too young. Too busy.

As Sam drifted off toward sleep, another image popped into his head. A long, lithe body slicing into the water, a smile like daylight and sparkling blue eyes under a mop of soft brown hair. Sam groaned and pulled the pillow over his head, hoping it would be enough to knock him out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 18, Sam is 14. John is 6. Dean's down with a cold, at least until Sam announces that they have a bit of a problem. In true Winchester fashion, what begins as a bit of a problem becomes much more.

Dean heard them come home and pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Sam?" He coughed and pushed sweaty blankets back, easing himself up out of the bed. His knees were weak, but the fever seemed to have broken. 

John came flying up the stairs as Dean opened his door, his hair still wet, his face white. He flung himself at Dean, his hands closing around Dean's legs and squeezing.

"Hey, buddy. What's wrong?"

Sam was coming up the stairs now, his clothes and hair wet too. "Sam?" He looked tired, worn.

"We have a problem."

Dean tried to peel John off of him. "What happened?"

Sam's face was pinched and angry. Or maybe it was scared. Sometimes Dean couldn't tell. "Tell me what happened."

"He grabbed me." John said into Dean's stomach.

"Who grabbed you?" Dean looked to Sam who didn't seem to want to say. "Will one of you fucking tell me?"

"Tommy Jacobs." John turned his face up to Dean's. "I saw him in the water and I didn't want to go in, but Brandon was teasing me about being scared and so I did…and then he was grabbing me and pulling me and I couldn't breathe and I screamed but there was so much water." John was shaking, burying his face into Dean's robe.

Dean's hand stroked over his hair. "Sam, what the fuck happened?"

"I think it was…a ghost." Sam said reluctantly. John shook all the harder and held on to Dean tighter. "I saw him having trouble and I dove in. There was something holding him down."

"A ghost? A fucking ghost?"

John whimpered and Sam held up both hands. "We need to calm him down first."

"Yeah, I got him. Why don't you get dry before you get sick." Dean sniffled and wished like hell he was feeling more like a human being to deal with this thing. "Why don't you and me go get you some cocoa, okay?"

When John didn't let go of him, Dean pried his hands loose and picked him up. John nuzzled into his neck. "Hey, buddy…you're okay, and you're home. You're safe."

"Don't make me go back there. I don't want to see him again."

Dean hugged John to him. "No, you don't have to go back. Not until Sam and I take care of it."

 

Dean handed John a second mug of cocoa and left him watching cartoons and headed back into the kitchen where Sam was writing down the details of his experience at the pool.

Dean blew his nose and sank into the chair opposite Sam. "Okay. Tell me again."

Sam exhaled and put his pen down. "I got there just before their free swim. John was at the shallow end with a couple of kids. He'd said something yesterday about a ghost and some girl getting touched. I wasn't sure I believed him." 

He pulled a hand through his hair. "Then he was jumping in, only he didn't come up…not for a long time, and when he did, he was screaming. Something pulled him under Dean. I swear to you. I dove in, the lifeguard right behind me, but he was at the other end of the pool. I got my hands under his arms and pulled, but I couldn't budge him."

"You think this ghost was pulling him under?"

Sam shook his head. "I mean…what else, right?" He fiddled with his pen. "The lifeguard got there and suddenly, John was in my arms, and we were coming up."

"Did it just let go?"

"I guess?" 

"He said he saw it." Dean blew his nose again. "When you guys came home. He said he saw the dead kid. In the water."

"Tommy Jacobs." Sam nodded. "I did a little asking around before I went to the center. He was nine. The pool wasn't even finished yet. The whole area was under construction. He fell in and drown in two feet of rain water and run off."

"When was this?"

Sam sighed. "Nineteen sixty nine."

That didn't make much sense. "So what? All this time he's minded his own business, but now all of a sudden he's pulling kids under?"

Sam shrugged. "There have been stories, but nothing like this. Laughing, a kid's voice. Nothing where anyone's seen him or felt him."

"Until now." Dean looked over his shoulder, checking on John. Judging by the slant of his body on the couch, he'd fallen asleep. "Okay. I guess I'll do some research tomorrow. Figure out where he's buried."

Sam's eyes narrowed, his arms crossing. 

"What?"

"You promised." Sam said, his voice soft.

"This is different."

"No it isn't." Sam pushed back from the table.

"It's _Dad_. It came after him."

"You promised me. No more hunting."

"What do you want me to do, Sam? Let it keep going until it finally kills someone?"

"Call someone. Jim. Let him do it. Or Bobby."

Dean wanted to tell him no, wanted him to realize they couldn't turn their backs on this. But he had promised. "Okay. I'll call Jim. Give him what you've got so far. John can stay home with me tomorrow."

Sam nodded. "Thank you. I better get my homework done."

"I'll get the kid up to bed."

Dean rescued John's half full cocoa from its precarious perch on the arm of the couch and lifted him. It amazed him how small the kid was, how light and frail and impossibly small. John shifted, his arm falling slack as Dean headed for the stairs. Dean tucked him into bed, slipping Mr. Turtle in under his arm, then kissed his forehead, smoothing a stray lock of dark hair off his forehead.

He found it hard to leave him though, lingering as John shifted and turned, curling his little body around Mr. Turtle, sighing as he settled. He'd never in his life imagined his father so small, so helpless. The thought of some ghost pulling him down, drowning him churned Dean's stomach.

With a deep, breath, Dean left him, heading down to his room and picking up his phone. "Hey, Pastor Jim." 

Dean scratched his head as he closed his bedroom door, the phone trapped between his cheek and shoulder. "No…we're fine. Well, not completely. I think…I think we stumbled across a hunt. Here in town."

He moved to the closet, rummaging around until his hand closed on his father's journal. "The center where John goes after school. Something tried to drown him today."

Dean dropped the book on the bed and rescued the phone before it slipped off his shoulder. "I promised Sam no more hunts. I thought maybe you could look into it." He turned on the bedside light and sat. "Great. I'll bring the information by in the morning."

There was a part of him that wanted to go after the fucking thing himself. Dean's lungs itched and burned and he coughed into his fist as he opened his father's journal. He hadn't looked at it since they'd given up on finding a way to make Johnny back into John. 

The first pages were filled with contacts, and the first few entries Dean had never read. It was always too painful. The raw emotion, the hurt and grief poured out, even through his father's tight words.

>   
> _Mary is gone. I know what I saw, even if I can't explain it. My father was wrong. He was real. The man with yellow eyes. He killed her. He would have taken Sam too. Just like Jeremy. No one believed me then either. I let myself forget. Now Mary is gone and it's all my fault._

Dean's finger traced over the words. The man with yellow eyes. The demon. He had known that much. He had never known that his father had seen it before. Dean reached for the phone again. He dialed Bobby's number and waited.

"Hey, Bobby."

"Dean? Everything okay? You don't sound good."

"Yeah, fine. It's a lousy cold. I just…I had a question."

"Shoot."

Only now Dean wasn't sure how to ask it. "It's about my father. Did he ever…maybe mention seeing things?"

"Seeing what?" 

Dean pressed his palm against his aching head. "I don't know… stuff. Supernatural stuff. When he was younger, I mean."

"Something going on I should know?" Bobby asked.

"Just…he's…I was reading his journal, and he says something about seeing the demon when he was younger…and John is…well, he saw something today that no one else did."

"Hmmm…" Bobby sounded like he was loading a gun. "Not that I remember. You thinking he's got some Sight or something?"

"I don't know. He always said that kids see the truth of things easier. Maybe it's just that."

"What'd he see?"

Dean shook his head. "Ghost of a boy. I'm taking the information to Pastor Jim tomorrow. He'll handle it."

"You let me know if you need anything."

"Yeah, thanks."

Dean hung up and turned back to the journal. He knew so little about his father's past. He knew he was a marine, served time in Vietnam. He knew that he made connections other hunters didn't. Even Bobby'd called him crazy more than once, only to find that John Winchester was right.

He flipped a few pages in the journal. The answer wasn't going to be in there. He shoved the journal into the bedside table and huffed. 

He needed to let it go. Give Sam's description to Jim in the morning and let it be. Once Jim dealt with the ghost, John could go back to the center and everything could go back to normal.

 

It was snowing as he and John arrived at the church. Dean pulled his coat tight around him and held John's hand as they headed up the stairs. Jim was waiting for them at the door.

"Morning." 

"Dean, John. Come on in. I've got coffee."

"Coffee sounds good." Dean followed him in, through the sanctuary and toward his office. 

"So, what's this about?" Jim asked after he'd handed Dean a cup of coffee and John had climbed into Dean's lap.

Dean pulled the papers out of his pocket and handed them across. "That's Sam's story. I wasn't there."

Jim nodded, smoothing out the pages and glancing over them. "So Sam didn't see it?"

"No, but John says he did."

Jim looked startled, and John made a distressed noise. He'd been sticking close to Dean all morning, and had hardly said a word. "Is that right, John?"

He nodded slowly, clinging to Dean's jacket. "Can you tell me what you saw?"

"Do I have to?" John asked in a whisper.

Dean held him close. "No, you don't have to…but if you can tell us, maybe we can help, so no one else gets hurt. Okay?"

John was trembling and his eyes filled with tears. "He was in the water. He's not always in the water."

"You've seen him before?" Jim asked, his voice gentle.

John nodded. "Sometimes in the showers. He likes turning them on and off. Once he was by the pool. He always smiles. But he wasn't smiling yesterday. He was in the water and he was scary."

"What did he look like?" Dean asked, stroking a hand down his back.

"He was all wrong…gray and his eyes were red and scary. I didn't want to go in the water while he was there. He knew I could see him. No one sees him. No one know he's there. No one knows."

"Okay, John. Okay." Dean hugged him close. "Pastor Jim is going to make sure he goes away, okay?"

Jim came around the desk, touching John's shoulder. "Can I ask you something, John?"

John sat up and nodded, 

"Have you seen anything else?"

"Like what?" John sniffled.

"Well, other ghosts maybe?"

John shook his head. "There was the man with yellow eyes."

Jim looked at Dean. Dean shook his head minutely. "What man, Johnny?"

"I was little, like when I was just five and my cousin was spending the night with his mommy. He was just a baby. The man with yellow eyes came and he took my cousin away."

"Took him?"

John's eyes were big. "I saw him, he had Jeremy in his arms and he looked at me and did this." John put his finger over his mouth. "I was afraid. I didn't move. Not until he was gone, then I yelled and yelled and Mommy came to see what was wrong, and she told me there was no man, and Jeremy was fine. But he wasn't fine. He wasn't breathing."

"That's very good John." Jim said. "I'll bet Sister Margaret has cookies ready. You remember how to find the kitchen?"

"Can I Dad?" 

Dean nodded dully and John jumped off his lap and headed for the rectory's kitchen. "Why'd you ask that?" Dean asked when he was gone.

"Just a hunch." Jim moved back around the desk. "When I met your father, he was pretty shaken up still over your mother's death. Told me it was his fault. That he knew the demon wouldn't leave him alone."

"What are you saying?"

"I don't really know, Dean. Your dad wasn't the most talkative man in the world, even then."

Dean exhaled slowly. Then coughed. When it passed he rubbed a hand over his sweaty face. "If that's true…if the demon wants something from him…"

Since coming here, Dean had been pretty lax about the normal protections his father had insisted he learn. There were no charms in the house, no salt lines. It was like an open invitation. At least that was something he could fix. 

"I…um…could use some holy water, you know? Maybe you could come by and…help me set up some stuff?"

Jim nodded. "Sure, I'll deal with this first." Jim tapped the paper. "I can come by tomorrow. In the mean time, you look like you belong in bed."

"Damn cold. My boss gave it to me."

"Smitty tells me good things about you. He's impressed."

"Dad taught me well." 

"You're doing good, Dean." 

Dean brushed off the praise. He was just doing what needed to be done. Nothing more. Jim handed him a glass jar. "Go on and get some holy water from the fount. I'll go round up John."

The sanctuary was empty. It was quiet and peaceful. Dean may never have had much need for church, but he appreciated the quiet. The doors behind him opened, casting bright, blinding light down the aisle and a long shadow that fell over Dean. He turned to look, but couldn't see much against the glare.

Slowly the door closed and in the dark that followed, Dean heard footsteps. He capped off the jar and turned. The man seemed familiar, like Dean should know him.

"Hey, you're that Winchester kid." 

Dean's eyes adjusted to the dark again and he squinted. "Do I know you?"

"I saw you here last Christmas, was looking for your daddy."

Dean nodded slowly. Wallerby…or something. "Right."

"You told me he was dead."

"Yeah, he is."

"Dad!" John came running with Pastor Jim behind him. "Sister Margaret made one just for you!" He thrust a huge chocolate cookie toward Dean.

"For me?" He took the cookie and drew John close to him.

"Mark, what brings you here?" Jim said as he came close enough. 

"We know he ain't dead, kid." 

Something in the man's tone was uncomfortable. John pulled on Dean's jeans. "Dad, I don't like him." Dean picked him up, instinctively pulling him away from the hunter.

"Well, you can believe what you want." Dean said.

"He's all black inside." John whispered in Dean's ear.

"You hid him away somehow…but we all know he's still alive." Wallerby's eyes flooded with black and Dean stepped back. "He hasn't shown up in hell yet."

John was screaming, his arms holding to Dean's neck so tight he was afraid he'd pass out. Dean threw the jar of holy water at the man's feet, sending glass flying and the water spraying up over his legs. 

Jim pushed Dean back behind him, into the sanctuary and started reciting Latin. Wallerby's laughter was chilling. "You gonna send me packing, _priest_? Without me this body is dead…has been for a while.

Dean turned away, covering John with his body. Jim's voice rose, then there was a scream and a thud. "It's over." Jim called.

When Dean turned back around, he was squatting beside the dead body. "I think maybe you're place is our first priority." Jim's eyes scanned over John who was still clinging to Dean. "I'll get my kit and meet you there, as soon as I deal with this."

Dean could only nod, stepping over the body and covering John's eyes as he made for the door. Somehow, Dean was beginning to think that the ghost of a dead boy was going to be the least of their worries.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 18, Sam is 14. John is 6. Pastor Jim calls in reinforcements in the form of Missouri Mosely. She gives Dean a whole knew list of things to worry about.

"Dean?"

Dean held up his hand as Jim finished his chanting. When Pastor Jim's hands finished their pass over the window, Dean looked up at Sam.

"What's going on?"

"Pastor Jim's helping us tighten up."

Sam was clearly not buying that. "Tighten up? That looks like serious shit."

"Watch your mouth." Dean stepped down off the porch. "It's just a blessing Sam."

Sam frowned at him, then up at the house. "What happened?"

"Why does something have to happen for us to be safe?"

"We've been here for almost a year and you haven't bothered. Why now?"

"Might as well tell him, Son." Jim said as he joined them, dusting his hands on his pants. 

Dean sighed. He didn't want to have to tell Sam anything. He wasn't even really sure what had happened. He scrubbed his hand over his face and huffed. "There was a demon Sam. Looking for Dad."

Sam's eyes rose to the bedroom window. "Is he okay?"

"Scared, couldn't get him to let go of me for more than an hour…but he's fine."

"How?"

Dean shook his head. He was still trying to figure that out himself. "He was a hunter. Met him last Christmas at the church. He wanted some amulet." There was more, but Dean wasn't sure he believed it. "John seemed to know the guy was possessed."

"What?"

"Just like he saw that ghost." 

Jim crossed his arms. "I've got a call into someone who might be able to tell us what's going on with him. She'll be here in a few days. Knew your father back in the early days."

"Are you sure we can trust her? I mean that Wallerby guy knew Dad too."

"We can trust her, Dean." Jim packed up the last of his things into his kit. "Missouri sees the truth of things."

"What about this demon?" Sam asked.

"Pastor Jim sent him back to hell. We're good for now."

"Until the next one comes along." Sam said. "How did it know?"

"It didn't." Dean shook his head. "I think it came looking for Pastor Jim and found us instead."

"Dad!" John's voice was tinged with frantic fear. Dean only just beat Sam to the door. John was standing in the living room, holding Mr. Turtle and looking terrified. 

"What is it Kid?" Dean asked, squatting next to him.

"I didn't know where you were." He rubbed at his eyes that were still red from crying earlier.

"Remember when I told you I'd be right outside with Pastor Jim making the house safe?"

"I forgot."

"It's been a tough day." Jim said from the door. "But you should be secure now. I'll come by after I deal with the ghost. See how you boys are doing."

Dean went to shake his hand. "Thank you."

Jim's smile was caring and warm. "You have your hands full. Keep him safe."

Sam watched Jim leave then closed and locked the door. "So we're back to hiding behind salt lines and keeping holy water on hand?" His voice was bitter.

"Sam." 

"No. You promised." Sam shouldered his backpack and headed for the stairs.

"How is this my fault?" Dean asked, standing and drawing John close.

"You're just like him."

"Who? Dad?"

Sam stopped on the stairs, his eyes flashing angrily. "I got homework."

He stormed into his room, slamming his door shut. 

"Is Sammy angry?"

"He's just scared that something tried to hurt us. That's all."

"I was scared too. That man was all black inside. He was angry."

"But he's gone now, right?"

"The man is, but the black isn't." John hugged Mr. Turtle and looked up at Dean.

Of course, he was right. Wallerby was dead, but the demon was only evicted, sent back to hell. Dean sighed. "How about you come help me make dinner?"

"I want hot dogs."

"With mac-n-cheese?"

"Yum!"

 

Pastor Jim found the bones and salted and burned them and there was no sign that Tommy Jacobs was still hanging around. Dean knelt beside John by the pool, watching John who was trembling.

"Do you see him?"

John shook his head. "I don't think he's here any more."

"So it's safe to come back, right?" 

"Do I have to?"

Dean turned John to face him. "No, you don't have to…but I want you to think about it, okay? You know he's gone, the pool is safe. You can't let a little fear keep you from doing things, right?"

John nodded, then jumped when the doors opened at the far end. Sarah waved and Dean smiled. "Just Sarah. We like Sarah."

John grinned at him. "You like Sarah, you mean."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Sam says you want to take her on a date."

"Sam says, huh?"

"The kids told me you two were back here. Everything okay?"

Dean stood and smiled. "Just showing John there's nothing to be afraid of, after Thursday, he's a little hesitant."

She nodded. "You know we'd never let anything hurt you here, right John?"

His hand slipped into Dean's. "I know. Dad was just helping me remember."

"That's what Dad's are for." She gestured toward the doors. "We're just getting ready to serve Mrs. Actins famous chocolate chip cookies. Care to join us?"

"Can my Dad stay? He likes cookies."

"Of course."

"Come on Dad." John tugged on his hand and Dean followed. Sarah held the door for them and once they were on the other side, John pulled on his hand until Dean squatted next to him. "Next time, you hold the door for her, Dad. Girls like that."

"They do? Who told you that?"

"Jeff. He says his dad says that girls like that."

Dean ruffled John's hair. "Thanks buddy. I'll remember that."

"Can I go sit with Jeff?"

"Go on."

"He seems to be recovering well." Sarah observed as Dean stood back up.

"He was pretty scared, but he's a strong kid." Dean watched John make faces at Jeff.

"Thursday, before the incident, John told me that you were shy. You don't seem like the shy kind."

Dean could feel a blush creeping up his neck. "No…shy, that's not me."

"So, if you haven't asked me out yet…it's because you don't want to go out with me?"

Dean opened his mouth, but no words came out. He closed it and scratched his head. "I wouldn't say that," he finally managed. 

She grinned. "Good. Say dinner, Friday night?"

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah, okay. Dinner. Friday night. I'll pick you up."

She grinned. "Good. Now that that's settled, Mom wanted me to ask if you have plans for Thanksgiving."

"Actually, yeah. We do." It was hard to believe that Thanksgiving was only a few days away. "There's a…family friend. He's expecting us."

"She had visions of you and the boys at some diner eating over cooked turkey dinners."

Dean frowned at her. "I can cook a turkey." Not that he ever had, but how hard could it be? "I just…choose not to. If I can help it." His eyes tracked to John, watching as he and Jeff dissolved into a fit of laughter. "He looks like he's settled in." 

"He'll be fine." Sarah agreed. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"I'll be back at five." Dean had to meet Jim and this Missouri person at the church. There was no way he was letting anyone else near him until he was sure they could be trusted. 

When he got there, Jim greeted him by the front doors. "How's John?"

"Seems okay. She here?"

Jim nodded and gestured back toward his office. "I haven't told her much, like you asked."

Right now, Dean was of the opinion that the fewer people who knew exactly what had happened to his father the better. Jim opened the door to his office and a woman inside stood, turning. She looked familiar, her dark hair pulled back, her brown eyes filled with caring and concern. 

"Dean, this is Missouri Mosely. Missouri, Dean Winchester."

"Like I wouldn't know." Missouri waved Jim off. "You probably don't remember me, child. You were just a small thing when I saw you last."

"No ma'am, I don't."

"Oh, all business. Just like your daddy."

Dean nodded. "I got a boy I need to be worried about. I'm not here for niceties."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Well then, let's get down to business. Why am I here?"

"You're here, Missouri, because we have a nearly seven year old boy who's able to see ghosts and demons that no one else around him can see." Jim said, dropping into the chair behind his bed.

"Who is this boy?"

"I'd rather not say just yet." Dean said. "We have reason to believe that there are demons looking for him."

Missouri's other eyebrow lifted. "What interest do demons have in a boy?"

"That's what we're hoping you can tell us." Jim said.

"Can't tell nothing less I meet the child." 

Jim's eyes met Dean's. After a long minute, Dean nodded. "Let's do this at home. I'll go pick him up. Meet me there around 5:30."

 

Sam was already home when they pulled into the driveway. Dean turned the car off and looked over the seat at John. It was almost like everything was normal, like nothing had happened.

"I need you to go put your things upstairs, buddy." Dean said as he helped John out of the car. "We're having company in a little while."

"Who?"

"Pastor Jim is bringing a new friend over to meet you." Dean held the screen door and pushed the heavy wood one open. Sam looked up from the coffee table where he had homework spread out.

"A new friend, like Jeff?"

"No, someone older. Go on now." Dean watched him race up the stairs and sighed.

"I take it you met her?" Sam asked without getting up.

"Yeah, they're on their way over."

"I'll get out of your way." Sam started packing his books up. They had hardly spoken since Friday.

"Sam…you don't have to…"

His face was hard when he looked up at Dean. "No?"

The knock on the door interrupted them and Dean turned to open it, letting Pastor Jim and Missouri in. Sam stopped cold as Missouri looked at him. "My, my, we **are** interrupting, aren't we?" Missouri said. 

Sam glared at Dean. "I was just leaving."

"Oh, don't go storming off angry with your brother Samuel." Missouri said. "Didn't your Daddy teach you any manners?"

Sam's scowl switched to her face. "What Daddy? I don't have one." He shoved his books into his back pack and stormed up the stairs.

"Don't mind him. He's angry."

"You don't say?" Missouri shook her head. "He's afraid, Dean. Afraid he's going to lose you. Already lost one daddy, didn't he? Can't stand the thought of losing another."

Dean's eyes narrowed and he looked from her to Jim. "What? He didn't tell you I'm a psychic?"

"No." Dean growled, not happy with Jim.

"Don't go blaming him. He figured you'd tell him no if you knew." She dropped her purse on the chair and faced Dean. "Now, where is this boy?"

Almost as if on cue, John's bedroom door opened and he emerged in his cowboy hat, with Mr. Turtle under his arm. "Come on down, Kid." Dean called.

John came racing down to about the fourth step, then leaped at Dean who caught him. 

"Oh my goodness." Missouri said, backing up until she sat down hard on the couch.

"This is Missouri." Dean said to John. "Can you say hi?"

John rolled his eyes and hid his face for a second. "She sparkles, Dad."

Dean looked to Missouri who seemed to be in a bit of a faint. "So?"

She held up a hand and took several deep breaths. "John Winchester." She gestured for Dean to bring him closer. "Come here child; let me hold your hand." 

"It's okay." Dean said softly, sitting beside her on the couch and holding John on his lap. "She's here to help."

John didn't pull away as she took his hand. She held it for a long time without moving. When she let go, she brushed a hand through his hair and kissed his forehead. "Gifted. Powerful gifted. Sees things. Knows the darkness." She licked her lips and looked up at Jim. "I could use some water and some time alone with Dean."

"John, why don't you go play in your room." Dean said, setting him on his feet. 

John looked at Missouri, leaning in to hold her face and look into her eyes. "Sparkles."

When he was gone and Jim had disappeared into the kitchen, Missouri took Dean's hand and held it like she had John's. "I'm so sorry, child." Her eyes opened and there were unshed tears in them. "He's laid a heavy burden on your shoulders."

"I do okay." Dean responded, uncomfortable with her emotion.

She nodded. "You do. You do very well. Taking care of Sam helped teach you that. But that child…"

She took a deep breath. "He has no memory of who he was. Not even buried. Whatever did this literally returned him to the boy he was at this age. Before his father beat the gifts out of him."

Dean stood and paced away. He'd known his grandfather had hurt his father, but this confirmation was more than he wanted to hear.

"Your grandfather was not a pleasant man." Missouri said as Dean leaned against the door. "Your daddy and I talked about it. He always suspected that his father killed his mother, but could never prove it."

"So he was like this before?" Dean asked.

"The gifts? Oh yes, born with him. His father thought it was nonsense. Took the belt to him whenever he spoke up. 'Less he was drinking, then he'd just throw him around. Eventually John suppressed them, forgot how to see that way. Protected himself."

"What…how do I…" He couldn't even begin to figure out how to ask what he wanted to know.

"Love him, let him know it's okay. Listen to him." Missouri stood and moved toward him. "He adores you. He's a little confused about some stuff, but as he gets older that will pass. He'll forget what came before he found you." Her hand caressed over Dean's cheek.

"What about the demon?"

"Well, that's a different story, isn't it?" She backed away as Jim emerged from the kitchen with a glass of water. "That demon's only the tip of the iceberg I'm afraid."

She took the glass of water and downed half of it before heading back to the couch. "Your father has his share of enemies in the demon world."

"It said that they all know he isn't dead because he wasn't in hell yet." Dean rubbed his face and tried not to see the sneer on Wallerby's face, the black in his eyes. "It will come looking for him again."

"Yes, it probably will, and it won't be alone." 

"So, how do we protect him?"

"Let him be a kid." Missouri said softly. "They aren't looking for a kid. They'll come looking for you though. You and Sam." Her eyes lifted to Sam's bedroom door at the top of the stairs. "And that's going to be your big problem. With all that anger and fear your brother's carrying around, he's got himself wide open to take some demon inside him."

Dean frowned and shook his head. "Sam? No. He's…just a kid."

"He's what? Fourteen now?" Missouri asked. "Old enough. He's plenty ripe too. Anger. Fear. Confusion. A good dose of teenage lust. You send him out into the world like that for long, one day he's going to come home with eyes black as sin itself."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 18, Sam is 14. John is 6. Missouri and Sam have a "talk". Sam sort of blows up. John tells Sam that he's scared, and it isn't about what Sam thinks it is.

"I don't need a babysitter, Dean." 

"I didn't say that you did, Sam." 

"Then why is she still here?" Sam crossed his arms and glared at his brother.

Dean scratched the back of his neck and looked like he was trying to think of a reason that wouldn't just make Sam angrier. "She's here for the kid. He's still pretty freaked out."

"And you think somehow she's going to help that?" 

"He seems to like her." Dean didn't really go into all the reasons why. It was supposed to be enough that John liked Missouri. Sam could hear what he wasn't saying anyway. Dean wanted a grown up around. Dean was afraid.

"Look, I'm only going to be gone a few hours. I have to run into work and help Smitty with a few things. I'll be home in time for dinner."

Sam could see the fear in his brother's eyes. A demon was hunting their father. Probably more than one. And Dean was afraid. Sam wasn't used to Dean being afraid, not of anything. 

Sam followed Dean downstairs, ignoring the woman on the couch for the moment and following Dean out onto the porch.

"Just be nice, okay Sammy?"

"It's Sam." He knew it was supposed to be his job now to reassure Dean that he'd take care of John, that everything would be okay. But Sam couldn't bring himself to say anything at all.

He watched Dean pull out and just as he was turning to go back inside, another car pulled in. Sam frowned and moved down the steps. Matt Flick waved from beside his beat up Mustang. "Shit." He'd forgotten. 

"Winchester."

"Hey, Matt." He stopped at the end of the sidewalk. He didn't want Matt walking in to the chaos of his house with a strange woman in it and John acting oddly. "You know, I forgot you were coming over."

"Bad time?" Matt pulled a hand through his messy hair.

Sam sighed and nodded. "Family shit, you know?"

"I have three brothers. I get it."

Three brothers didn't begin to compare to the Winchester family drama, but Sam wasn’t going there just now. "I just…things are tense right now."

Matt nodded, moving in closer. His blue eyes were bright and his smile brighter. "How about I give you my notes, and you can study them. We can get together Friday, right? Unless you have big Christmas shopping plans."

Sam rolled his eyes. "No, we're not…big shopping people."

Matt handed over a notebook and a stack of library books. "You want to meet Friday at 9? You can come to my place if you want."

His place would definitely be less distracting. "Yeah, that would be good."

"Bring your swim suit. We have an indoor pool."

Sam smiled and nodded. "You do?"

"Better to practice all winter, right? My parents are determined I'll make the Olympic team." Matt rolled his eyes. "I just want to get into a good college."

"I'm sure you will." Sam's heartbeat sped up a little, watching the way Matt's lithe body turned, how he leaned in closer before stepping back. All he could think about was Elizabeth and her theory that Matt was into him. Like, really into him.

Matt grinned and Sam blushed from the intensity. "So Friday then?"

"Oh, hey, need your address."

Matt tapped the notebook in Sam's hands. "It's in there. My phone number too."

Sam watched him pull out and then headed back inside. He still had more homework to finish and now a bunch of material to get through before Friday. He opened the door to find Missouri waiting for him. He didn't need this on top of everything else.

"Look, I know Dean said you could stay, and I'm sure that John likes you or whatever, but don't expect me to be keeping you company. I have work to do."

"You got quite the mouth on you, don't you?" She glowered down at him, her hands on her hips.

"You're not my mother."

"No, I'm not."

"Then get out of my way."

"No. Not until you listen to me."

Sam pushed past her, but she grabbed his shoulder. "You may not remember me, Sam, but I was a friend of your father's."

"Good for you."

"I realize this is difficult for you."

"You realize that, do you?" Sam snapped and turned to face her. 

"I understand--"

"Understand? You? How?" Sam threw his books on the floor. "You understand what it's like to never know your mother? To grow up in the back seat of a car and shitty motel rooms, never able to tell anyone who you really are? You understand how it feels to never know if your father is going to come home at night, or whether he'll be bleeding when he does? To know how to pick locks and steal a car before you're old enough to even drive a car?"

He stormed away, then back again. "You know what it feels like to go to bed at night just praying that you'll get to finish the semester in the same school you started it in? Or that maybe you'll get to make friends this time? Or not look like some penniless homeless kid in jeans that don't fit and have holes in them? To just want to be fucking normal? Only you have a father who hunts demons and ghost and whatever ever other supernatural bullshit he can find while he's looking for the one that killed your mother, and every time he looks at you he sees her. He sees her with her stomach ripped open and flames eating her and after a while he can't really look at you at all, except when he's drunk or drugged up on painkillers, and you know he loves you even if he never says it, he just can't look at you and not see her die."

Sam was shaking, his whole body trembling with the emotion spilling over and out and through him. His face was red, his heart hammering. "And then, just when you're pretty sure nothing worse can happen than him coming home all torn up after some hunt, he doesn't come home at all. And you hate yourself for thinking that maybe its better that way…but even that isn't the worst of it. You think it is. You think that's as bad as it gets, and then one morning you get up and your goddamn father is a fucking six year old kid."

Missouri held out a hand but he shook it off, crossing his arms and shivering. "And now you have to take care of him, you have to pretend he's your brother or nephew or whatever and you have to take care of him. He needs you. And he's not your father, not anymore…but he is…and it isn't fair."

"No, Sam, it isn't fair." He felt Missouri approaching him, her steps heavy on the floor.

Sam turned. Screamed. "It isn't fair! It isn't fucking fair!" He threw the punch without thinking and she only barely moved out of the way, her arm deflecting his hand enough to grab his shoulder and pull him close. "It isn't fair."

Missouri's hand soothed down over his back while Sam raged, struggling against her tight hold and screaming into her chest over and over. Eventually, his knees wobbled and gave out and Missouri eased him down softly. Sobs wracked through him while she whispered softly to him.

Sam sobbed until he thought he was going to be sick and pulled back shakily. Missouri wiped a finger under his eye. Sam tried to look away, but she took hold of his chin and turned his face back to his. Her eyes were dark and filled with compassion and Sam was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to withstand any platitudes or assurances that things were going to be okay.

He knew better.

"Now, it's my turn." Missouri said, helping Sam up off the floor and sitting him in the chair. "You're right. It isn't fair. Your daddy put a lot on you growing up. And you ain't asked for none of it either. I know that. I know you're feeling alone and plenty scared. You got all this anger rolling around inside you and no way to let it out. Ain't no one here saying you ain't got the right to it."

Sam wiped at his face and took a shaky breath, looking up to find Missouri pacing away from him. He opened his mouth to speak and she raised a hand. "I'm not finished."

She got as far as the stairs, turning to look up them at the closed door of John's bedroom. "You and your brother have had it hard. Lord knows we tried to tell your daddy this was no life for young-ens. He loved you both something fierce. Still does. Just, not the same way."

Missouri sighed and turned to look at him. "I can't begin to know why this happened Sam. Maybe your daddy somehow made an unconscious wishing for something simpler, easier. Maybe he found a way to escape some bad something that was heading his way. I don't know. What I do know, is that in this year he's been with you like this, you and your brother have already changed him. That little boy up there has a chance to grow up with love in his life, something he didn't have the first go round. Not once his momma died."

"That doesn't make this any easier." Sam said quietly. He shivered a little, imagining John like he was now, so young and trusting in the hands of someone who would hurt him. 

Missouri's eyes narrowed. "Never promised you easy." She crossed back to stand in front of him. "You love your father." It wasn't a question, just a simple statement. "And you're furious angry with him at the same time. Every teenager in America feels the same, Sam. Maybe not for the same reasons, but you ain't special or as alone as you might think. But, I'm here to tell you that it's time you get yourself over it, and start minding your own self. Or you're gonna find a whole new meaning for dark and angry."

Sam scowled at her. "What do you mean?"

"You a magnet for demons, boy. All that seething anger and fear and lust you got going on--"

Sam stood abruptly. "Wait. What? I don't…I'm not…"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "So that wasn't a houseful of hormonal teenage lust rolling off you when that boy left? Don't even try to lie to me Samuel Winchester."

He swallowed and shook his head. "Fine. Whatever."

"That's right. You know I'm telling the truth." She smiled a little and reached out to ruffle his hair. "It ain't nothing new. Just normal teenage figuring stuff out, but when mixed in with all this Winchester crap, it's a recipe for bringing home something not natural, Sam."

He shivered, imagining what it would be like…to have something crawl up inside him and control him.

"You don't ever want to know." Missouri said softly.

"So…what do I do?"

"Work it out. Get through that anger and get a grip on that fear. John's got enemies gonna come looking for him and they're gonna find you first."

Great. Like he didn't have enough to worry about already.

"And while you're at it, you might lighten up on your brother. He's doing the best he can."

Sam sighed and nodded. "Can I go now? I really do have more homework."

"Go on with you. I'll get to fixin' supper." She paused at the door into the kitchen. "And normal ain't something you want Sam. Even if you think it is. You were born for this. To help people."

Sam rolled his eyes as he headed for his room. "I don't believe in destiny, Missouri."

"Don't have to believe in something for it to be true."

 

"Sam, can I come in?"

He looked up from the notebook filled with Matt's neat printed notes. "Yeah, Squirt. Come on in."

John was in his pajamas, but still wearing his cowboy boots and hat and dragging Mr. Turtle behind him. He closed the door and leaned on it for a minute.

Sam waited, figuring he had something on his mind. When he didn't say anything after a minute, Sam gestured for him to come closer. "I don't have all night Johnny. What's up?"

John stopped an arm's reach away. "I was scared." He didn't look up at Sam. 

"I know, buddy. Dean told me."

John shook his head lightly. "No. I mean that too. But before, when we came home. You were angry."

"Not at you, John."

"It felt like you were angry at me." John looked up and there were unshed tears in his eyes. "You yelled at Dean, but it felt like you meant it for me."

John sniffed and brushed at the tears with Mr. Turtle's trunk. "You keep getting dark, Sam. Like the man. Dark inside and it scares me."

"I'm sorry, Johnny." More than anything Missouri had said, John's words cut through him. "Come here." Sam held his arms open and John came, falling into Sam's lap and wrapping his arms around him. "I don't ever want to scare you."

Sam held him for a second, until they both sniffled and Sam cleared his throat. John pulled back, but stayed in Sam's lap. "Sammy…are you scared?"

Sam nodded and brushed John's long bangs out of his eyes. "Sometimes, John."

"Of the dark man?"

"Yes. Of the dark man and others like them."

"I think he wanted me." John kept his face turned down, buried against Mr. Turtle. "I think he was looking for me, but didn't know I was me. Because I'm not who I used to be."

Sam felt his chest tighten. "What…what do you mean?"

John shrugged. "Before I came to you, I was someone else. My father…my other father…he knew. He was afraid of me. He was dark inside too."

Sam closed his eyes. He couldn't be angry with him, not with this John who loved him and trusted him and said things that made Sam crazy with the need to protect him. "I don't think it matters who you were before, Johnny." Sam said softly. "All that matters is who you are now. You're John Winchester. And no matter how many dark men come looking for you, none of them are going to get you. I won't let them."

Sam pulled John close, hugging him tight.

John's hands rose up to grab Sam's face, his eyes searching out Sam's. After a long minute he smiled. "There you are Sammy."

"Right here, Johnny. Right here."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 18, Sam is 14. John is 7. John has a birthday, with cake and presents. Dean learns from Sarah that Sam may be interested in dating...and tries to have "the talk" with Sam.

Dean watched from across the room as John opened up his presents, laughing excitedly and holding up each thing to show his friends. It had been quiet since Thanksgiving. No ghosts, no demons. Even Sam seemed to have settled in and wasn't giving him quite as much attitude.

John seemed to have adjusted, throwing himself happily into school and judging by what Sarah said at the center too. He had no problems going back to swimming after that first week. His grades were good and he seemed happy.

"Hey." Sam dropped onto the chair next to his and handed him a can of soda. "Cake's ready." 

"Thanks." Dean glanced aside at Sam. "You know, I remember your seventh birthday. We were in that place with the haunted playground, remember?"

"I remember you telling me it was haunted." Sam said with a snort. "And Dad got back so late from the real hunt he almost missed the fun."

Dean laughed. "You had salt everywhere." Their father had laughed so hard at the sight of Sam mixing rock salt into the playground's sand base, but he'd been impressed by the ingenuity and treated Sam to ice cream.

John looked up, his eyes checking in with Sam and then Dean. He was always careful to know where they were. Missouri appeared in the door to the kitchen where she and Pastor Jim had been setting up the refreshments. "Who wants cake?"

As one, the five boys jumped to their feet and stampeded toward her, laughing and shoving into the kitchen. Dean got up to follow with Sam bringing up the rear. Sam started the singing as Dean lit the candles on the cake and John was practically vibrating as he blew them out.

By the time they all had cake and ice cream, Dean had frosting on his face and hands and he backed away to go wash up, running into Sarah in the living room. She laughed and held up a present. "Your door was open. I knocked, but…"

"We were singing." Dean reached for the present, but stopped, holding up his blue hands.

She raised an eyebrow. "You're a mess."

"But I'm cute." Dean said with a grin.

She put the present on the back of the couch and took his nearer hand, raising it to her lips and licking the icing off with a grin. "Mmmm…sweet too."

Dean pointed to the smear of icing on his chin. She giggled and leaned in to kiss it away. Behind him Sam groaned. "Get a room."

"Jealous?" Dean asked as Sam brushed past him.

"Hardly."

"Elizabeth says Sam has his own little thing going on." Sarah said with a grin, stopping Sam at the bottom of the stairs.

"She what?" His voice squeaked and Dean raised an eyebrow. It was a sure sign he was hiding something.

"Is that why you're spending so much time in the bathroom these days?"

"Oh my god, Dean!" Sam's face burned red before he stormed up the stairs, his bedroom door slamming.

"You shouldn't tease him that way." Sarah said, wiping more frosting from his face. "It's tough at his age."

"What? Girls?" Dean made a face and shook his head. "He's a Winchester."

She rolled her eyes at him. "What's that? Immunity against puberty?"

"Sam is not having girl trouble." Dean said, flopping on to the couch. 

She sat next to him, her hand caressing over his knee. "Maybe it isn't girls that are the problem."

Dean frowned at her. "Isn't that what we were talking about?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "We're talking about Sam and puberty and having someone he's interested in."

Dean nodded. "Right."

She kissed him lightly, holding his face in both hands. "Maybe the someone Sam is interested in isn't a girl." Sarah said slowly.

Dean's eyes widen as her implication dawned on him. There was that swimmer guy that Sam had been spending time with. "Wait. Sam isn't…" 

"You can't say that. I'll bet he isn't even sure."

Dean turned to look over his shoulder at Sam's door. Sarah's hand on his face drew him back. "Stop worrying. He'll be fine."

"I have to worry. He's my brother." Dean replied, though he responded to her kiss.

"And that's why I love you so much."

 

"Thank you Dad. I had fun today."

Dean sat beside John on the bed, smoothing the blanket up over him. "Good. You made enough of a mess."

John laughed, hugging Mr. Turtle to him. "Jeff said you're a cool dad."

"Well, I am." 

"Yes you are." John agreed around a yawn. 

"Did you open the present Sarah brought you?"

"It was cars, a whole bunch of them." John squinted up at him. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"I guess she is." Dean responded. They didn't have anything official, but there had been a handful of dates and there had been kissing. They hadn't gone any further than that, Dean didn't have room in his life for more.

"Is she going to be my Mom some day?"

John was direct, if nothing else. Always asked the questions. Dean exhaled slowly. "We haven't talked about anything like that, Squirt. She's a very nice lady and I like spending time with her."

John fiddled with Mr. Turtle's nose, then sat up, taking Dean's hand. "I like her. You smile when she's around. I like when you smile."

He was very serious about this Dean could see. "I like when she's around too John."

"Then she should come over more. You should cook her dinner. With candles."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Candles, huh?"

John nodded. "Jeff's dad made dinner for his girlfriend. He said there were candles. She liked the dinner so much she spent the night so she could have breakfast too."

Dean snorted. "Okay, buddy. I think that's enough talking about my love life. You need to get some sleep. School tomorrow."

John laid back down and let Dean tuck him in. Dean kissed his forehead. "Night, Dad."

Dean turned off his light and closed the door, heading down the hallway and pausing outside Sam's door. The light was still on. Dean could hear Sam's voice, all low and rumbly. He knocked lightly and opened the door. "Sam?"

Sam was on the bed, surrounded by books, the phone cradled to his ear. "I gotta go, Matt. I'll catch up with you tomorrow to return the notes." Sam dropped the phone and looked up. "What's up?"

Now that he was in the room, Dean wasn't really sure. "That the swimmer guy?"

"Matt. He's helping me get ready for the next debate."

Dean nodded and came to sit on the end of the bed. "That's good." 

Sam frowned at him, sifting through books and piling them. "Did you need something?"

"About earlier…" His voice trailed off and he couldn't look at Sam. "I mean…I tease, because I'm your brother and that's what brothers do. But…you know…if you have…questions…"

Sam groaned and covered his face. "Tell me this isn't you trying to have the birds and bees talk with me Dean."

Dean pulled back, shaking his head. "No. Not that. I know you know that stuff. I mean…" This was not going well. "I'm not the best with relationship shit. I mean, my 7 year old father is giving me advice on how to get Sarah to spend the night."

"He what?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "Nothing. Just…he thinks I should cook her dinner. But that isn't what I'm talking about."

Sam got up, transferring a stack of books to his desk. "What are you talking about?"

"You know…if there's someone you want to have over for dinner…that would be…nice."

"Nice?" Sam turned to look at him. "Let me get this straight, you came in here to tell me I can have a friend over for dinner?"

Dean huffed and stood. "I'm just saying, it's okay. You're fourteen and I was, you know, fourteen when I…and I think it's too early, but if you…" He gestured uselessly with his hands.

"Stop." Sam held up both hands. "Just stop. I'm not having this conversation with you." Sam's face was bright red. "I'm not seeing anyone. Okay? I'm not interested in anyone. I'm certainly not having sex with anyone. Are we done?"

Dean wiped his face and nodded. "Yeah, okay. We're done." He headed for the door. "Just, I want you to know you can tell me. If you want to."

"There's nothing to tell." Sam grabbed more books from the bed to transfer to the desk. "Good night, Dean."

"That sucked." Dean muttered as he closed his own bedroom door. Ever since Sarah had left he'd been stuck thinking about Sam with that boy. It was weird. It changed everything if it was true. Not that it was a problem. Just not what he was expecting.

Obviously Dean wasn't ready to be a father to a teenage boy. 

 

"Winchester!"

Dean pulled his head out from under the hood of the muscle car he was working on and looked up. Smitty stood in the door of the office holding the phone out. He dropped the wrench in his hand and grabbed a shop towel to wipe his hands. 

"It's the school."

Dean frowned and took the phone. "Hello?"

"Mr. Winchester?"

"Yes."

"This is Mary Polk at the high school."

Sam. "Is Sam okay?"

There was just enough hesitation in her voice for Dean's heart to panic. "There was an…incident."

"Is Sam okay?" Dean repeated, a hard edge on his voice.

"He is on his way to the emergency room, but he should be fine."

"What happened?"

"Sir, I need you to stay calm."

"I am calm. Tell me what happened."

"There was an altercation. Sam was involved. I'm not sure what injuries--"

"What hospital?" Dean cut her off.

"St. Vincent's."

He hung up the phone and looked at Smitty. "Go. I'll get someone to finish the job."

Dean headed out at a run, fishing his keys out of his pocket. He didn't bother to take the time to peel off his coveralls, just threw himself into the car and tore out of the garage parking lot. 

Schools didn't send students to the emergency room unless it was serious. They always called parents first. There was an ambulance pulled up the ER doors when he got there. He ran past and up to the desk. "My brother was brought in from the high school. Winchester. Sam Winchester."

"Dean!" He heard Sam's voice and took off at a run, with the nurse calling after him telling him to wait.

The exam room was full of people in scrubs and Sam was on the table. Blood was everywhere. "Sam!" He only got two steps into the room and someone was pushing him out.

"Get him out of here!" 

Dean pushed back on the hand that was pushing on his chest. "That's my brother."

"Sir, if you don't let us do our job--"

"What?" He strained to look around the man, to see Sam. His face was pale and Dean couldn't see where the blood was coming from. "What happened?"

"Sir, please. Give us a few minutes to get things under control. A doctor will come out and talk to you."

The door closed leaving Dean standing in the hallway. 

"Mr. Winchester?"

He turned to find a young man with blood on his clothes and a dark bruise purpling his face. "Yeah. Who are you?"

"Matt. Um, Matt Flick. I'm a friend of Sam's."

"Do you know what happened?"

The kid looked spooked. He pushed at messy brown hair with bloody hands. "I--I'm not really sure. We were in the library and we um…were looking for this book." His eyes were glazed and he wavered a little on his feet. 

"Okay, come on. Let's sit down." Dean pulled him to the row of plastic chairs. 

"Sam was by the shelf and Mr. Dimas came looking for us, only he was acting strange. Then he picked Sam up. Just grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off his feet. How?" The kid blinked and looked up at him. "How did he do that?"

Dean had a pretty good idea. 

"I tried to stop him." Matt's hand touched the bruise and he winced. "I've never felt anything like that."

"Mr. Winchester." 

Dean stood as a doctor in blue scrubs came out of the room. "Yeah. I'm Dean Winchester."

"Your brother is stable, but we're going to keep him at least over night."

"What's wrong with him?"

"He was cut. We're not sure what with, but he's got three long slices in the stomach. He's lost a lot of blood, but he should make a full recovery."

"Can I see him?"

"In just a few minutes. We're finishing up the stitches and then you'll have a few minutes before we take him to x-ray."

"X-ray?" Dean rubbed his neck. "What for?"

"The wounds in his stomach were the most serious, but he also appears to have broken his wrist."

"Okay." A broken wrist would heal. 

Beside him Matt stood, turning toward the main doors. "Ms. May." 

Dean recognized that name. She was the principle at the high school. He turned from the doctor to face her. "Mr. Winchester, I'm Ms. Veronica May."

Dean nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't get here before you. I…there was a lot to deal with at the school."

"Where's this teacher who tried to kill my brother?"

"We're not sure what happened--"

"Matt here says Mr. Dimas attacked them. Where is he?"

She pressed her lips together. "Mr. Dimas is dead."

Dean backed off, trying to make it come together in his head. Obviously the man had been possessed. "How?"

"We don't know." She was ringing her hands. "The story isn't very clear. It doesn't make much sense."

"Matt, what happened after Dimas hit you?" Dean said, turning back to the kid. 

He blinked a little, then nodded. "Sam told me to go get help. Then he said something in Latin and Mr. Dimas got really angry. He was yelling something about Sam and his father and his eyes were all red. Like totally red. Sam kicked him and then Mr. Dimas threw him down. I tried to help him up, but Mr. Dimas just looked at me and I went flying into the table."

He swallowed and held his arms around his stomach. "That's when his hands…they had claws or something. He slashed at Sam's stomach. Sam threw something at him and his face started smoking…People started coming and Mr. Dimas ran away. I tried to help Sam. I--I know first aid…but I've never seen so much blood…"

Dean put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Matt. You did really well. Sam's lucky to have a friend like you." He turned to the principle.

"Witnesses say Mr. Dimas ran back to his classroom. That's where we found him. Dead."

Dean nodded and paced. He'd probably been dead since the demon had gotten in. Two policemen were approaching. They were going to want to talk to Sam. The door to the room opened and a nurse beckoned him. "You can sit with him until we're ready to take him up to x-ray. We've given him something for the pain, so he might be a little woozy."

Dean put the police and the principal out of his mind and went into the room, grabbing a stool and pulling it close to the bed. "Hey." Sam's eyes fluttered open. "You look like shit."

"Jerk." Sam winced a little, his uninjured hand going to his stomach. "Hurts."

"Matt told me what happened."

Sam's eyes went wide. "Mr. Dimas."

Dean nodded. "Demon?"

"Yeah. He…wanted to know where Dad was. Said something about an amulet and it belonged to him." 

Dean let his eyes sweep over his brother. There were bruises on his neck and face. His right wrist was splinted. "Matt said he had red eyes, not black."

"Dean, this thing was…" Sam shivered. "I don't know. I was terrified."

"I know. But you did good, Sammy."

There were tears in his eyes. "I couldn't protect him."

"Who, Matt?"

Sam nodded. 

"He's fine Sam. He's out there in the hallway worried about you."

"They're never going to leave us alone, are they?"

Dean closed his eyes. He had wanted to give Sam a normal life. Free of ghosts and demons and hunts. But he was pretty sure Sam was right. 

When he opened his eyes, Sam's face had gone hard and determined. "When I get out of here, we go back to training. I want to be ready when the next bastard comes after us."

"Sam…we don't…" He stopped when Sam grabbed his hand and squeezed. 

"I don't want to feel that helpless again."

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah Sam. Okay. We'll train. But for now, you just concentrate on getting better, okay? John is going to freak."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 18, Sam is 14. John is 7. Sam is recovering from the attack, but the school seems to be alive with rumors...and not just about the demon. Matt tries to make things clearer. John helps Sam and Dean figure out where the amulet the demons seem to be looking for might be hidden.

The school was buzzing with rumor and whisper. Sam had only been in the building for ten minutes and he was ready to run. Instead, he ducked into the bathroom, hiding in a stall while he got his breath.

He and Dean had argued about him coming back to school. Dean seemed to think he should take them up on their offer to home school him the rest of the year, but Sam didn’t want to hide.

Well, that was wrong. He **wanted** to, he just didn’t think he should.

“Sam?”

Sam took a deep breath and opened the stall door to find Matt standing by the sinks. “Hey.”

“I saw you duck in here.”

Sam nodded, his non-broken hand slipped across his stomach. “I just needed some space.”

“The whole place is talking.”

“I know.” Sam crossed to the sinks to wash his hands. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“How are you feeling?”

He wanted everyone to stop asking him that. It was bad enough that the school had sent him a counselor and he had Dean and Missouri and Pastor Jim asking every chance they got. “I’m fine, Matt. My stomach’s healing nicely. My wrist itches, but it’s better.”

“Not really what I was talking about. I can’t go into the library without seeing it all again.”

Sam nodded, he understood that. “I know.”

Matt had been to see him everyday in the hospital and every other day since, but they still hadn’t talked about it. “What about you?”

Matt shrugged and turned to the mirror. “I don’t know. The counselor says I’m holding back, but if I tell her the whole story…you know no one is going to believe that shit.”

No, no one ever would. No one that wasn’t there or a hunter. “Matt…”

He held up a hand. “No, I don’t want to know, Sam. I realized you and your brother know more than you’re saying, but…really? I just want to forget.”

Sam smiled wanly. He understood that. For a long time, that was all he wanted too. “Fair enough.”

“I’ve got to run, I’ve got a test in calculus next period.”

“I’ll see you later.”

Sam splashed water over his face as his friend left. He needed to get to class himself. He just wasn’t sure he was ready for the whispers and questions yet. Maybe Dean had been right. Maybe he should have stayed home.

 

After the longest school day on record, Sam managed to cram all the books he needed into his back pack, but he wasn’t sure he would make it all the way home carrying it. He wasn’t supposed to be lifting anything. He stood at his locker contemplating.

“Hey.” 

Sam looked up, a little surprised to find Matt and Tyrell standing by his locker. “Hey.”

Matt shifted a little on his feet. “So, I told your brother I wouldn’t let you try to haul the whole library home in your backpack.”

Sam smirked. “I’m fine.”

Tyrell raised an eyebrow and reached for Sam’s shirt, lifting it and eyeing the bandages. “That ain’t fine. Give it.” He made grabby gestures at Sam’s backpack.

“You going to carry my books, Ty?” Sam asked, but he let the older boy take the bag. “That should give the whole school something new to talk about tomorrow.”

“Dude, they need a new rag.” Tyrell shouldered Sam’s bag and headed for the door. “I’m tired of hearing about Mr. Dimas going psycho and kicking the crap out of you two. It’s been a month already. Get over it.”

Sam chuckled. He could hear the concern that colored Tyrell’s voice. “I hear Mr. Callahan’s taking over the debate club.” Sam said as they headed out. 

Tyrell snorted. “Yeah, like he’d know a pro from a con.” He shook his head. “You coming to practice tomorrow?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, Matt’s been keeping me up to date, but I need the practice.”

Tyrell raised an eyebrow again and Matt slapped him. “Matt has, huh?”

Sam scowled at them and Matt rolled his eyes. “You know this school. They’ll talk about anything.”

Sam stopped them. “Am I missing something?”

“You haven’t told him?” Tyrell asked. 

“Told me what?”

Matt was a decided shade of pink, his hands pulling through his hair. He sighed and shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Right, because you always turn that color over nothing.” Tyrell got them turned and started walking again. “See, our good friend Matt here is trying to protect your honor, Sammy. He doesn’t want you to know that Mr. Dimas isn’t the only thing the school is buzzing over.”

Sam felt like he was trying to catch up in a marathon of crazy. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, you do know that Matt’s spending a lot of time with you.” Tyrell looked at him, both eyebrows raised nearly off his forehead. “A **lot** of time.”

“He’s been helping me stay caught up.”

“Ah huh. You as dense as he is.”

They were nearly to the edge of the park. Tyrell handed Sam’s backpack off to Matt. “I’ll let him handle the rest. My brother’s driving me to school in the morning. We’ll swing by and pick you up.”

Sam turned to Matt, whose face had turned even redder. “Is there something you need to say?” Sam asked, suddenly remembering another conversation in this park. He glanced toward Elizabeth’s house, then back at Matt.

“I…well, maybe.” Matt shouldered Sam’s back pack and started walking again, headed toward Sam’s house. “I don’t want to freak you out.”

Sam snorted. “Um, Matt…remember me?”

He smiled and nodded. “This isn’t like…you know monsters or anything.”

“Well that’s good.” Sam grinned, rubbing his stomach. “I’m in no shape for a rematch.”

They were nearly to the porch. Sam reached for Matt’s hand, stopping them. “What’s going on?”

Matt looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. “Nothing. Nothing has to be going on. I want you to know that.”

“Okay.” Sam looked at him, trying to figure out what this was about. “I’m kind of lost here.”

Matt bit his lip and turned away, setting Sam’s backpack on the steps. “I like you.”

Sam grinned at him. “That’s good, considering I wouldn’t blame you if you ran the other way after—“

Matt’s hand grabbed his arm, stopping Sam mid-sentence. It slid down to Sam’s hand, holding it for a second before letting it go. “I mean…I **like** you.”

Sam swallowed as Matt’s eyes lifted to his. There was a flood of hope in his eyes and fear. Elizabeth would be squealing. “Um…okay.” Sam wasn’t really sure what to say now. Matt looked away.

“This is stupid. I should go. I mean…forget I said anything.”

Sam grabbed for him before he could get two steps away. “You don’t have to go.”

Matt was clearly more uncomfortable than he had been before. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

“I’m glad you said something.” Sam said slowly. It made Matt stop pulling away from him.

“Yeah?”

Sam offered a tentative smile. “Yeah. I mean…I’m glad you trusted me enough…and I’m not sure what to say, and I’m flattered…and…”

Matt was biting his lip again and Sam couldn’t take his eyes off him. He’d meant everything he’d said to Dean about not being interested in dating, about not having room in his life…and honestly, he had no idea if this was something he wanted, if he was into guys. He knew that he really liked Matt though, and if his dream life was any indication, he could get into Matt well enough.

“You’re not freaked out?”

Sam shook his head. “No…I…I just…”

Matt’s eyes got big. “Oh, my god. You’re not…you’re straight and I just made a complete fool of myself.”

Sam laughed and shook his head. “You didn’t make a fool of yourself. And…I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never given it much thought.”

Matt didn’t look like he believed him.

“Seriously…I’m only fourteen, remember?”

Matt blinked at him, stepping back a little. “I forget sometimes. You seem…so much older.”

Sam reached for his hand, holding it in the space between them for a minute. “Let’s say that I’m flattered, and I like you…and maybe we can figure out the rest?”

Matt licked his lower lip as he stepped closer. “Okay, that isn’t a flat out rejection. I can live with that.”

“Me too.” Sam met his eyes, held his breath. Neither of them moved for a minute, then they both leaned in, just a little. Matt’s lips brushed over his lightly. 

“I should go. I have an insane amount of homework.” Matt said softly.

“Yeah, me too.” Sam stepped toward the porch. “Call me later?”

Matt’s face lit up and he nodded, heading for the street with a wave.

Sam exhaled slowly and unclenched the fist at his side, pressing his palm against his groin as he turned for the porch. Such a soft kiss. It shouldn’t have made him hard like that. But Sam was pretty sure that homework would have to wait a few minutes while he dealt with it.

 

“Sam’s all sparkly.” John said as Dean came in from the car.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m not sparkly,” he protested, putting a plate of hot dogs and macaroni and cheese in front of John.

“Yes you are.” 

Dean just snickered and dropped the box he was carrying on the table. “This was hidden in the trunk, behind everything.”

“What is it?” Sam leaned over to peer into it, but it was just a mess of papers as far as he could tell.

Dean shrugged. “Don’t know, but it’s the only thing in the entire car I had never seen before.”

“You think this amulet might be in there?” Sam tried to keep the question light, but he saw Dean’s jaw tighten.

“No.” Dean sat at his place, pulling his plate to him. “There’s no mention of it in the journal, no sign that he knew anything about any amulet.”

Sam knew that. They’d both poured over it looking. There was nothing. Sam looked at John who was working on his second hot dog. If their father had hidden some amulet that these demons seemed to want, he’d done a good job of it.

“Maybe he destroyed it.” Sam offered.

“Maybe.” Dean reached into the box and pulled out a handful of papers. Sam could see from across the table that they were receipts and notes, some in his father’s handwriting. “I’ll go through this, see what’s here. Maybe he left…something.”

“I bet he put it away.” John said suddenly, not looking up.

“What?” Sam looked at him closely.

“Well, he was a grown up, and grown ups like when stuff gets put away. Like when Dad put the book away because he didn’t want me reading it.”

Sam turned to Dean, squinting. “Where would Dad put something like that to put it away?”

Dean frowned, dropping a pile of papers on the table. “I would have said the car, but we’ve been over it.”

“I’d put it in the closet.” John said.

“Only Dad didn’t have a closet.” Sam’s eyes were on Dean who was clearly trying to think of someplace they hadn’t already thought of. “Unless…”

Dean’s eyes snapped up. “Remember that place in Lazlo?”

Sam nodded. Their father had stopped when he thought both boys were asleep. He had gone into a self-storage place with a box and come out empty handed. “You don’t think…”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I do think.” He picked up his hot dog and met Sam’s eyes. “I guess we’re going to Lazlo this weekend.”

 

They sat in the front seat of the car, John behind them playing with cars on the expanse of back seat. In front of them was a bright orange door, padlocked. The unit was rented out by one Byron Obermyer, the rent paid for nearly five years. Dean had found a receipt in the box.

Dean’s hand fell on the bolt cutters. “You two stay here.”

Sam glanced at John who didn’t seem to be paying attention. “Be careful.”

Dean nodded and got out of the car. He made quick work of the lock and shoved the door open. He was gone a few minutes, then appeared at the door, gesturing that it was safe. 

“Come on Johnny, let’s see what’s inside.” Sam held John’s hand as they headed in. Obviously Dean had disabled the trip wire. Sam’s eyes traced the wire laying on the ground to the shotgun on a shelf. His father obviously planned to protect the place. 

There were shelves filled with boxes, books. A long table in the back was lined with metal boxes and crates. “Wow.”

Dean stood in the center, looking around them. “I don’t even know where to start. Hey, John. Be careful.” 

John pulled his hand off a book, his eyes wide. “I don’t know if there’s any more traps.”

Sam nodded and knelt next to John. “It’s a photo album.” He eased it off the shelf and opened it across his knee. 

“Mom.” John breathed, his hand ghosting over a picture of a woman in a yellow sundress, her blonde hair cascading over one shoulder. 

Sam held the book up to show Dean. “That’s your mother?”

John nodded, tears in his eyes. “She was very beautiful.” Sam said softly. “Here, why don’t you sit and look at it while Dean and I look around.”

John sat cross legged on the floor and Sam settled the photo album in his lap. Sam followed Dean further into the unit. “So, where would you hide some amulet that you didn’t want anyone to know you had?”

Dean shined his flashlight around them. “How about in a curse box?”

On the shelf in the furthest corner of the unit six special boxes sat. The light moved over them, shining on the sigils and runes. Sam vaguely recalled their father talking about how you made one, a special container to hide away magic that couldn’t be destroyed and should never be used.

“Which one do you think it is?”

Dean shook his head. “Not like he was going to label them, right? I mean, he was trying to hide the damn thing.”

“Well…we can’t open them.” Sam inched closer. The top row of boxes were all big, bigger than would be needed for something like an amulet. “What about that one?” He pointed at a green box only a little bigger than a jewelry box.

Dean licked his lips and picked it up. “Can you figure out the symbols?” He held the flashlight so that Sam could see the top of the box.

Sam squinted, but he was out of practice, and their father had never liked him learning the magic stuff. “Not really….it’s strong stuff though. That’s like the voodoo stuff Dad ran into in Louisiana.”

Dean nodded, then looked back over his shoulder to check on John. “I say we take it back to Jim, open it on sacred ground maybe. Make sure.”

Sam didn’t want to open it at all, but he nodded. Here was not the place. “Right.” He pulled the new padlock out of his pocket and followed Dean to the door. John held up the photo album.

“Can I bring it?” 

Dean nodded and Sam took the book, tucking it under one arm before taking John’s hand to help him off the floor. 

“Let’s go get some ice cream before we head home.”

John smiled at Dean, while Sam pulled the door closed and locked it. They had a long drive home, and a curse box in Dean’s pocket. Sam had no idea what came next, so ice cream seemed like enough of a plan.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 18, Sam is 14. John is 7. Christmas morning brings the Winchester boys a present they aren't expecting and with it a possibility of finding the answers they need to understand who, exactly is hunting them.

Dean frowned as he made his way down the stairs to the sound of knocking on the front door. It was barely two in the morning. The Christmas tree lights made the living room seem festive despite the hour. 

John was asleep on the couch, evidently sneaking downstairs after Dean and Sam had gone to bed for the night. Dean smiled and moved past him to the door before the knocking woke him up.

Dean rubbed at one eye as he opened the door far enough to see who was there. “Bobby?”

“Its damn cold out here.” Bobby said in way of greeting.

Dean pushed the door closed and slipped the chain off before pulling it open and stepping aside. “Quiet. John’s sleeping.” Dean pointed to the couch as Bobby stomped snow off his boots.

“Why’s he on the couch?” Bobby asked, his gruff voice just above a whisper.

“He’s eight and it’s Christmas.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “I can make coffee.”

“I’ll take whiskey, if you have it.” Bobby countered, leading the way.

“Sounds serious.”

“Isn’t it always?”

Dean had to give him that, moving to the cabinet where he hid the bottle of whiskey. He poured a little into two glasses, handing one off to Bobby. “I wasn’t expecting to see you for a while.”

Bobby shrugged and straddled a chair. “Jim called about the box.”

Dean’s heart thumped in his chest. Two weeks they’d had the box after finding it in his father’s storage unit. Even Pastor Jim hadn’t wanted to open it without understanding what it was. The fact that John Winchester had never spoken to anyone about it was concerning. The fact that even Jim and Missouri couldn’t make out what the symbols meant was even more concerning.

“And?”

Bobby tossed back the shot and set the glass down on the table before sweeping off his hat and scrubbing a hand through his thinning hair. “And…it’s bad news.”

Dean sighed. “I think we knew that Bobby.”

Bobby settled his hat back on his head. “No, this is bad like you ain’t ever seen. I’ve been digging into what your daddy was doing before…” He sighed and gestured toward the living room. “He was up into some crazy shit, and keeping it hidden pretty damn good. But I found this.”

He dug into a pocket in his coat, pulling out an envelope. Dean recognized the sloppy handwriting across the front of it. His name. Dean Winchester.

“Where?” Dean reached for the envelope slowly.

“In a book he borrowed from me. He returned it a week or so before this happened.”

Dean turned the envelope over. It was still sealed. “He knew something was going to happen to him.”

Bobby shrugged. “We all know something is going to happen to us Dean. It comes with the job.”

Dean shook his head. “No. He went out of his way to keep us out of things. I brushed it off, figured it was because school was starting. He kept telling me I had to look after Sam, like I haven’t been doing that my whole life. I should have seen that he was worried.”

“Well, whatever he was working, he hid it behind other jobs.” Bobby poured more whiskey and Dean turned the envelope over and over in his hands. “You gonna open it?”

Dean nodded slowly. He wasn’t convinced he wanted to know. He moved to the door of the kitchen, watching John sleep. Whatever his father had done, whatever had happened to him, Dean was nearly convinced that they were better off the way things were now. They were stronger, closer than they had ever been.

He slipped a finger under the flap of the envelope, opening it as carefully as he could. With his father, you never knew what might come out of an envelope. Inside was a single piece of paper. Dean pulled it out and unfolded it.

> If you are reading this, I’m probably gone. With any luck, I’ll have taken that yellow-eyed son of a bitch with me. If I haven’t it falls to you to protect Sam from him. 
> 
> I’ve done everything I can to cover my tracks and hide what I’ve done. Not just from you, Dean, but from the demons, and from other hunters. If they knew what I’ve learned…if they put it all together, you and your brother wouldn’t be safe. Ever. 
> 
> I know this is a lot to lay on you, Son, but I know you will understand the stakes. Tell no one the whole truth, not even Bobby or Jim. You may need their help for some of what you’ll need to do, but do not tell them everything. 
> 
> In my journal there’s a page with instructions, written in code. The key to the code is on the back of this page. Follow the instructions. Keep your brother safe. If what I’ve learned is true, more than one demon will be looking for him as he grows up.
> 
> There’s a little bit of money put aside for you boys. Ask Bobby to show you the junker I had towed to his place. You’ll find a safe box under the driver’s side tire well. 
> 
> I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you better, give you an easier life. I’m sorry I can’t be there to see the man you will become. I love you and your brother more than you can ever know.

Dean lowered the page, his eyes skipping back to John on the couch.

“Well?” Bobby asked.

Dean sighed. “It’s him saying goodbye. Usual crap…look out for Sam, you know…”

“Nothing about the demon or what he was up to?”

“Not really.” Dean shook his head. Damn his father and his damn cryptic messages. Damn him for this. All of it. “He said something about an old junker at your place?”

Bobby nodded. “Yeah, he beat the hell out of it. Used it in the early days so he wouldn’t ding up that car of yours.”

Dean nodded again. “He left us something in it.”

“You boys are welcome any time, you know that.”

Dean yawned. “Give me a minute to take John back to his bed. You can have the couch. I’ll warn you though, he’s going to be up in about 2 hours and jumping off the walls.”

 

Not that Dean would be doing any sleeping himself. He needed to know what in the hell his father had meant, what he was protecting Sam from. He got John into his own bed without waking him, and tossed down a blanket for Bobby before he dug his father’s journal out of the closet and closed his bedroom door.

Nothing was ever easy with John Winchester.

Dean sat on the bed with the letter and the journal, digging through it until he found the page that he’d always just dismissed before as code words and passwords because it didn’t make any sense.

It only took him a minute to realize he was going to need a pencil and paper. He got up, padding down to Sam’s room. He let himself in, crossing to the desk and snagging a pencil and a notebook.

“Dean?”

“Go back to sleep Sam.” Dean whispered.

“What’s wrong?”

Dean turned to look at him. “Nothing. Bobby showed up. I needed some paper.” He held up the notebook.

Sam looked at the clock, then back at Dean. “It’s two-thirty.”

“I know. Can’t sleep.”

Sam was sitting up, pulling back the covers. “Bobby found something.”

Dean sighed. It wasn’t like he was going to keep it from Sam anyway. “A letter. From Dad.”

Sam swallowed and crossed his arms over his chest. “What did it say?”

“Not much. He was in trouble, Sam, and he knew it. He left us instructions. I need some time to figure them out though, okay?”

Sam nodded. “It’s about the demon, right?”

“Yeah, I think so. But look, he said not to tell anyone, even Bobby, okay? So…”

“Not a word.”

“Get some sleep. John’s going to be up and under the tree before you know it.”

Dean paused outside the door to John’s bedroom. In so many ways he wasn’t their father at all anymore. Dean didn’t even think of him that way much. He was John, and maybe Dean didn’t feel like the kid’s father…but he’d be hard pressed to say he didn’t love the boy like he was his son.

Dean rubbed at his aching head as he headed back to his bedroom. The whole mess made him hurt. Maybe nothing hurt more than the idea that Sam was the target…that somewhere out there was a demon gunning for his brother, and Dean was all that stood in his way.

He settled in with the notebook and journal and letter. Somewhere in here was an answer. 

 

“Dad!” John’s little feet pounded up the stairs and down the hall just before he burst into the room. Dean managed to get his papers and books set aside before John was bouncing onto the bed. “It’s Christmas! Uncle Bobby is here! Come on Dad!”

Dean couldn’t help but smile at the kid. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Is Sam up?”

“He’s waiting downstairs.” 

Dean nodded, shoving his feet into his slippers before John grabbed his hand, pulling him into the hall. Sam was huddled up under a blanket on the couch. John had obviously already been under the tree, the presents sorted into piles.

Bobby came shuffling out of the kitchen, two coffee cups in hand. He was sleep rumpled, the ever present baseball hat sitting on the back of the couch instead of his head. He handed Dean a cup. “Breakfast is cooking.”

Dean smirked at Bobby’s expression. The man wasn’t accustomed to small kids and their exuberance. “Johnny, settle down.” Dean sat in the chair facing the tree. “You’re gonna wear yourself out before noon.”

He could feel Sam’s eyes. For the moment Dean ignored them. He wasn’t sure how to tell Sam what he’d found. It was a list of things Dean needed to do, places he had to go. It would start with that car at Bobby’s. The box had more than money in it. He sipped at the coffee and watched John hand out presents.

Bobby got up a few minutes later to check on breakfast while Dean was opening a present from John. It was a coffee mug with “#1 Dad” on it. Dean held it up for Sam to see, grinning at John. “Thanks, John.”

“Sam said it was dorky, but I got it anyway.” John declared, looking up from where he had nearly disappeared under the ripped off wrapping paper from his presents.

“I love it.” 

He set the cup aside. He was going to have to get Sam to watch John for a couple of days. He had a few days off with the garage closed for Christmas, he could probably get out to Bobby’s and maybe back to the storage unit in Lazlo. There were a few things there he was going to need.

John was unusually quiet. Dean looked up to find him holding a picture frame in each hand. “Whatcha got?”

There were tears in John’s eyes as he held them up for Dean to see. In his right hand was a picture of John and his mother and in his left was a picture of John and Dean. 

Dean looked at Sam. John dropped the pictures and launched himself at Sam, wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging him until Sam’s face was starting to turn red. “Thank you Sammy. Thank you.” John whispered fiercely.

“You’re welcome Johnny.” Sam responded softly, kissing his forehead. “I thought you might like to have them by your bed.”

“If you guys are done with presents, breakfast is ready.” Bobby said from behind them. 

Dean herded a reluctant John into the kitchen, avoiding Sam’s look with a “Later.” He wasn’t sure what exactly he was hiding from Bobby, but if his father had reasons, Dean wasn’t going to question them.

Breakfast, showers and clothes followed, then Bobby was heading off to Jim’s and Dean felt like he could breathe again.

“So, are you going to tell me?” Sam asked as Dean washed the breakfast dishes.

He exhaled slowly. “Where’s John?”

“Playing with his toys.”

Sam was leaning against the table, his eyes dark and watching Dean as Dean turned to face him, drying his hands on a towel. “First, you need to promise me you won’t freak out.”

“Dean.” He looked pissed, but Dean held up one hand.

“Seriously Sam, I’m just barely holding on here. I need you to stay calm.”

“Fine. Tell me.”

Again, Dean exhaled slowly. “The letter was mostly him saying goodbye. He knew he was in trouble, and he knew something was going to happen. I don’t think he knew…I think he thought he was going to die.” Dean dropped the towel on the counter. “But, he told me I had to protect you.”

“Me?” Sam made a face. “He’s always said that.”

“This is different. He thinks the demon wants you, but I don’t know why. Not yet.”

“Yet.” Sam squinted at him. “What does that mean?”

“Dad left a series of instructions. I need you to stay here with John. I have to run up to Bobby’s. He left us something there. Hopefully there will be more information. He told me that we can’t tell anyone Sam. Not even Bobby.”

Sam’s eyes got big. “Why?”

Dean shook his head, moving to where he could watch John playing by the Christmas tree. “I don’t know. Something about us not being safe.”

Sam joined him in the door, watching John. He was quiet for a long minute. When he did speak, he didn’t look at Dean. “Because of me? I mean…that’s why he kept telling you to protect me, right?”

Dean crossed his arms and thought about how to answer it. He was just beginning to put together an idea of what his father knew. He wasn’t ready to tell his brother the truth. “I don’t know Sam.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 18, Sam is 14. John is 7. Dean works on unraveling the clues John left for them while Sam works at understanding the world through the eyes of puberty.

Dean huffed on his hands, trying to warm his fingers enough to get the lock open on the small box. It was going to be dark soon, and he still had a long drive ahead of him. 

Finally the lock gave and he opened the box, cussing when he found another note and more…well, he wasn’t sure what they were, exactly. More pieces to the puzzle and damn if that wasn’t frustrating. He put the box in the trunk with the other pieces and pulled out the note.

It was more code, but by now he’d gotten parts of the damn thing memorized so he could make out a little of it without digging out the journal. Four days he’d been on this goddamn scavenger hunt following cryptic clues left by his father.

He picked out enough to know that he wasn’t going to get through it standing in the middle of a flipping field in the middle of a snow storm and he folded the note up, sticking it back into the box and slamming the trunk shut.

He’d started at Bobby’s place, and the beat up lock box his father had left him in the wheel well of an old junked car. The box had almost two thousand dollars in it, which wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but really would be helpful, especially at the rate Sam was putting on inches these days. 

There had been a note too, a little less cryptic than some of the others, more information about what it was Dean had to do, and a map. Which had brought him here. In the middle of nowhere, under a tree, in a field, freezing his ass off.

The field was between towns. A half hour away from the place they’d been staying when his father disappeared and a six year old had taken his place. If Bobby’s theory about what happened was true, this was likely where his father had run into the freaking fairy-thing that had changed him.

Dean didn’t let himself dwell on that. His father was gone and all of this running around following the clues he’d left behind was only hammering that fact into his brain. He slid in behind the wheel and brought the car to life. Four days of driving and bad coffee and all he had to show for it was a trunk full of cryptic notes and coded instructions and a half dozen pieces of some puzzle that he was supposed to put together.

He got himself on the road and headed for home. Sam was going to be angry it took so long, and angrier still when Dean had nothing more to tell him. He needed time to decipher everything. Time to put the pieces together. And figure out what it was that demon wanted with Sam.

 

It was nearly midnight when Dean finally pulled into the driveway. The old mustang out front told him that Sam’s friend was there. The lights were out, except for the flickering of the television and the Christmas tree lights in the living room. 

Dean left the box in the trunk and let himself in the front door. Sam and Matt stood abruptly from the couch, Matt looking guilty, his face flushing. Dean raised an eyebrow. “Boys.”

“I…um…I should go.” Matt nodded. “It’s late. I…” He looked from Dean to Sam and then started reaching for his coat.

“Don’t run off on my account.” Dean said, dropping his coat on the chair. “I’m going to bed.”

He heard Sam whispering to Matt as he got to the stairs. “Oh, hey Sammy?” Sam crossed to him, looking annoyed. Dean leaned in with a wink. “Just keep the moaning down, I’m tired.”

Sam punched him in the arm and Dean chuckled as he headed upstairs. He stopped at his bedroom door and peeked over the railing just enough to catch a quick kiss before Sam was holding the door open.

The television clicked off, and Dean headed into his room, leaving the door open because he knew Sam was headed straight for him. “Well?” 

Dean kicked off his boots and started pulling off his layers of shirt. “I’ve been driving for four hours Sam. I’m cold, I’m wet and I’m tired.”

"And I've been here explaining to John three times a day why you took off right after Christmas dinner." Sam crossed his arms and leaned against the door.

Dean sighed and nodded. "I don't have any answers. Not yet." He looked his brother in the eye. "I've got a box filled with more questions and notes and names and some puzzle. It's going to take some time."

Sam's face was pinched, angry. "I don't know that we have time. Missouri was here yesterday, all worked up about some crazy crap…a demon holiday or something."

Dean had pulled some books out of the storage unit, one of which dealt with demonic holy days. He shoved his feet back into his boots and headed back down the stairs, Sam hot on his ass. Sam waited on the porch as Dean went to the trunk and pulled the box out.

He dropped the box onto the coffee table as Sam turned on the lights. "Okay, so I started at Bobby's. Dad's note said he left us a lock box with some cash and information." He pulled the lock box out and held it up. "There's a couple thousand dollars, a bunch of ammo and another note." 

Dean pushed the big box out of the way and opened the lock box, setting the money aside and pulling out the note. He hesitated briefly, then handed it over to Sam. He'd read it enough times that he knew each word.

>   
> Boys,
> 
> The ammo in this box is not to be used except in the most dire of emergencies. The gun that fires it is hidden, locked away. When the time comes you will know where to find it and how to use it. Until then, keep this safe.
> 
> Dad  
> 

"That's it?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Turn it over." On the back was more of the damn code. Dean sighed. "It sent me back to the lock up for books." Dean pulled the books out of the box, opening one of them. "Where I found this." He held up an envelope.

In the envelope was another note and the first flat piece of metal. He dumped it out onto his hand.

“What is it?”

Dean shrugged and held it up to the light. “The first piece. I don’t know. The note doesn’t help.”

Sam took the envelope and pulled the note out.

>   
> You will need this when the time comes. You will find the other pieces hidden in the places listed in the journal. The last pieces are under the tree in the field where we buried the last bones of Gremair.

“The what?” Sam asked, frowning up at him.

Dean sighed and rubbed his face. “Gremair, that weird warrior-wizard guy. Remember when we were in Texas and that other hunter asked Dad to help him scatter the bones? We buried a hand in Pennsylvania and a leg in that field.”

“So, you obviously knew where to go.”

“Yeah, only, I just found more of the same crap.” He reached into the box for the smaller box he’d pulled out of the earth. “Note’s totally in code this time. Two more of the metal bits. I found three more in other books.”

“So we have six flat metal pieces, a handful of books and notes in code. Not much to go on.” 

Dean nodded. “I know. I’ll work on solving the codes tomorrow. I need to sleep.”

“You have to work tomorrow.” Sam reminded him as Dean put everything back into the box. “I could work on it.”

Dean didn’t like that idea. Not at all. “Don’t you and loverboy have some debate thing to work on?”

“His name is Matt and he isn’t…” Sam sighed and stood. “Why do you do that?”

Dean frowned as he lifted the box. “Do what?”

“Make it sound so…dirty.”

“Do I?”

Sam stopped at his bedroom door. “Not all relationships are about getting laid as fast as you can and walking away.”

“You really like this guy.” Dean said, starting to wonder what really had been going on when he walked in the front door.

“We’re friends.” Sam insisted.

“Who kiss goodbye?”

Sam blushed scarlet. “You saw that?”

Dean put the box down and pushed it toward his bedroom. “Small house.” He crossed his arms and leaned on the wall. “Seriously…what’s going on here?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know…not really. I mean…he’s nice and I like him and he’s into me…and I…just don’t know.”

There was something in Sam’s face, a fear Dean couldn’t quite place until Sam’s eyes lifted to his. He was afraid of what Dean would think. About him and a guy. Dean had to admit, he hadn’t been at his most supportive the last time they’d talked about it, when he’d figured out that Sam might be leaning toward the gay side of the fence. He just couldn’t think of his brother that way. “I’m not sure what you need me to say.”

Sam’s face was red as he looked away. “I don’t know either.”

“Probably not good to get civilians involved right now.” He’d cooled things down with Sarah for the same reasons. He didn’t need another person to look after while he figured this out.

Sam snorted and pushed his door open. “Right. Because I can explain that to him.” He sighed and looked at Dean. “You know, maybe that’s what’s wrong with us Dean. Maybe if Dad had found someone after Mom died, things would have been more normal for us. Maybe we can have normal too.”

“You’re the one who wanted to go back to training, to hunting.”

Sam nodded. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to have friends and maybe more.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. He was exhausted and this conversation was rambling to places he wasn’t sure he could follow. “Get some sleep Sam.”

He pushed the box into his room and under the bed. Part of him wanted to pull out all of the notes, including the one he’d found in the demon book, the one that told him about the demon that killed their mother, and what their father thought he wanted with Sam. He hadn’t shown that to his brother.

Sam had enough on his plate without that burden. At least for now. He needed to sleep though, he had to work in the morning and he needed a fresh head when he started working on the codes.

 

Dean knew he’d come home and find Sam working on the box. Even though he’d told him not to. That was why he’d taken the two notes with him. Sure enough, he found Sam in the kitchen with paper and books and bits of metal spread out on the table.

“Any progress?”

“Some.” Sam said without looking up. He pointed to a notepad.

Dean lifted it, squinting to make out the words in Sam’s sloppy handwriting. “Great, more scavenger hunts.”

The list of instructions included a trip to yet another storage locker, this one a two day drive away. 

“I called. The lease is due to run out. We need to get there in the next few days.” Sam said, his fingers tracing a line of code on one of the notes.

“I can’t take time off right now.” Dean sighed. He could probably get Bobby to do it. Ask him to clean the locker out. They could sort through everything and maybe stash some of it at the locker in Lazlo. “Okay, I’ll call Bobby.”

Sam nodded, then snapped his fingers, gesturing at the paper under his hand. “I think I know what the metal pieces are.” He looked up at Dean, his eyes bright. “They’re the key to opening the box…the curse box.”

Dean frowned and leaned over him. “They don’t look like a key.”

“There’s a reference here to some ritual…and another book…but see here?” He pointed, then grabbed the notepad out of Dean’s hands, scribbling the translation. “Assemble the key and place the curse box on top. This opens the first lock.” He made a face, “…or something like that. Dad’s handwriting sucks.”

Dean chuckled. “Says you.” He pulled in a deep breath. “Where’s this book?”

“Don’t know yet. Give me a few more minutes.”

Dean shook his head. “Enough for today, Sam. I’ll send Bobby after the other locker. Why don’t you get dinner ready? I’ll go check on John.”

“Dean—“

“Sam, I don’t want you getting all obsessive about this. We’ve got time.”

“You don’t know that.”

Dean sighed, pulling the notepad away. “No, I don’t. But I’m serious. You need to put it away for now.”

Sam looked like he was going to argue, then John’s feet were pounding down the stairs and he was throwing himself at Dean. “Dad!”

“Hey buddy.”

“I missed you.” John hugged Dean as hard as he could, his little arms around Dean’s neck. “Sam said you were on an adventure, looking for treasure.”

“He did, did he?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam who was starting to clear the table. 

“Is that the treasure?” John asked, pointing at the box. 

“Sort of.”

“It’s more like the map that will lead us to the treasure, Johnny.” Sam said.

“Like in that movie?”

Sam smiled and nodded. “Yeah. We watched Goonies while you were gone,” he explained to Dean.

“Matt brought it over and we made popcorn and watched these kids follow a map and there was a boat and treasure and kissing.” John said. His eyes got big and he looked at Sam, then back at Dean. “In the movie. There was kissing in the movie.”

“In the movie, eh?”

John nodded earnestly as Dean put him down. “In the movie.” 

Sam left the room quickly with the box. Dean chuckled and ruffled John’s hair. “Well, I’m home now and things can get back to normal.”

As normal as they could be in a house with a father who had become his son, and demons were hunting for them anyway.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 18, Sam is 14. John is 7. Sam is starting to figure out what Dean is hiding from him, John has a dream that may shed some light on things and Dean is starting to wear under the pressure.

His brother was hiding something from him. Sam knew it. He didn't have all the pieces to the puzzle, but he was really beginning to not like the picture the puzzle was leading him to. He sat on the floor of the living room with it spread out around him, notes and ciphers, his father's journal, the metal pieces, the curse box and his own notes.

The door opened, cold air blowing in around John and Dean as they came in. Dean sighed as he shut the door. "Go on into the kitchen John, you can help me with dinner."

When the door to the kitchen had swung closed, Dean glared down at Sam. "I thought we agreed."

"No, Dean, you agreed. I listened, let you ramble on and waited for you to leave. We have to figure this out."

"Sam, if Dad wanted you involved, he wouldn't have gone to so much trouble."

"And look what his trouble got us, eh Dean?" Sam shook his head. "Besides, I've just about got it. If you would give me the pieces you're hiding, I'd know what it is we're supposed to do."

"What makes you think I'm hiding anything?" Dean asked, just a little too defensively.

"Because I know you." Sam responded. 

Dean sighed and shook his head. "Get this cleaned up, Bobby's on his way."

"Are we still hiding all of this from him?" Sam asked, gathering the piles.

"Dad's note said not to trust anyone, even Bobby." 

"Because of me." Sam pushed, despite the stress he could see lining Dean's face.

"I told you Sam, he didn't actually say that."

"Whatever."

"Don't do that." Dean peeled off his coat and dropped it on the back of the chair. "Just…please, clean this up, and let's have a nice, quiet dinner."

Sam squinted up at his brother. "If I do that, will you give me the pieces you're hiding?"

Dean closed his eyes, looking older than his nearly twenty years. "Fine. Tomorrow, I'll get Sarah to watch John and you and I will go over it all."

"Good."

"Dad?" John appeared at the kitchen door with what looked an awful lot like chocolate smeared over his face. "I don't think the pudding is going to be enough."

Sam chuckled as Dean shook his head. "I said the pudding was for dessert, Johnny."

John nodded very seriously. "But someone ate some. There isn't enough."

"Someone did, huh?" Dean hid the smirk. "Well I guess that someone doesn't get any dessert."

Dean headed into the kitchen with John, leaving Sam to finish packing up the stuff. He paused when he picked up the curse box that they figured held the amulet all the demons seemed to be hot after. So far he'd been able to figure out that the box was designed only to open on the key, on the night of a full moon, on sacred ground. He also knew that the amulet was ancient, made by a priest in Hungary, he still hadn't figured out what it was for…or how the amulet had ended up in his father's possession, or why the demons wanted it. Sam sighed and put the curse box in with all the rest of the things.

He had discovered enough though to know that whatever his father had been up to, it involved protecting Sam…from demons and hunters alike. 

The doorbell rang and Sam went to let Bobby in, stepping aside as he dragged a steamer trunk in behind him. "More in the truck." Bobby said in way of greeting. Sam nodded and headed out to get it. By the time he came in with two boxes, Bobby was grousing about John Winchester's over developed need to hide things in out of the way places and his goddamn love of booby traps.

"This everything?" Dean asked as Sam set the boxes down on top of the trunk.

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, I cleaned the place out, like you asked."

"You staying for dinner?" Dean gestured toward the kitchen, but Bobby shook his head. 

"Jim's got a hunt he wants me to take. You boys don't go getting up into all this without him or Missouri around, you hear? You don't need to be picking up where the old man left off."

"No worries, Bobby. Sam made me swear off hunting, remember?" Dean's eyes flashed to Sam, his jaw tightening. 

"Well, Jim tells me you both been asking a lot of questions. Hunting questions."

"Just making sure we're safe." Sam interjected. "After the last few attacks…can't let them get to Dad."

Bobby's eyes narrowed as he looked at Sam, but if he suspected they were lying, he didn't show it. "Right. You call if you need me."

"We will, Bobby. And thanks again."

Dean walked Bobby to the door, and Sam opened the first box once he was out the door. It was stuffed with books and papers and tangled up talismans that looked like tourist crap sold in flea markets and the like.

"Leave it for tomorrow, Sam."

Dean sounded tired, and more than that, he looked exhausted. Sam nodded, and closed the box. "Tomorrow."

 

Dinner was quiet, even John sensing the mood and eating quickly before excusing himself and running off to his room. Sam figured it was a good time to do the same, he had debate club work to finish before school started on Monday.

He put aside his thoughts about his father and demons and concentrated on the pros and cons of imminent domain. Sometime later, probably several hours, there was a light knock on his door and John's voice on the other side. "Sammy?"

"Come on in, Johnny." The door opened to reveal John in his batman pajamas, rubbing at tired looking eyes. "What's wrong buddy?"

"Can I talk to you?"

"Always."

John closed the door and crossed to the bed, climbing up on it when Sam made room among his books. When John didn't start talking, Sam sat back and looked at him. "What's going on?"

He huffed out a breath and chewed on his lip for a minute. "I want to say this right."

"Okay." The last time John was this serious, he'd been concerned about Sam going dark inside. Sam had been working hard at not letting his anger and fear control him since.

"No, it's me this time." John said, not really looking at Sam, so much as looking past him. "I had a dream. In this dream I wasn't a little boy. I was a big man and I had little boys of my own."

Sam stilled, watching John think through each word he said. "I was a dad and I had a baby boy and my baby boy was like me…only the black-inside man with yellow eyes wanted to take him, like he took my cousin."

John's eyes were unfocused, hazy. Sam held his breath. "What happened to your baby boy, Johnny?" Sam asked breathlessly.

"I took him away, before the black-inside man could, only I wasn't fast enough and the black got inside him. Just a little…but I knew I'd have to protect him, I just didn't know how."

John blinked and his eyes came back to Sam's face. Sam struggled to find something to say to him. He was talking about the night Sam's mother died…the night of the fire, when everything changed. "I'm sure it was just a dream, Johnny."

John shook his head. "That's just it, Sam. I know it's real. I just…don't understand how." He sighed and it sounded far too old for a boy of eight. "I was John Winchester then too." His eyes sparkled and his face looked like someone who knew the answer was just beyond his reach. "But not like now."

Sam suddenly felt his chest constrict. He didn't want John to face all of that, to know the truth. "It sounds like some crazy movie to me." Sam said as dismissively as he could manage. He swallowed at a ball of fear in his throat.

"I think you're like my baby boy, Sammy…the black-inside man got to you, but only a little, and your daddy got you away…and that's why you have to fight so hard to keep from going black…but you got sparkles in you too, just like the lady and Pastor Jim." John leaned across Sam's piles of books and kissed his forehead. "I like it when you're sparkly."

Sam exhaled and looked around, surprised to find Dean in the door. Dean's eyes met his and Sam knew he'd heard at least part of it. "Hey, buddy, way past your bed time."

John grinned and jumped up off Sam's bed. "Night Sammy."

"Night, kid." Sam called after him, watching Dean pick him up and carry him down the hall. By the time Dean came back, Sam had his bed cleared of stuff. "I take it you heard?"

"Not all of it." Dean said.

Sam shook his head. "Freaked me out Dean. Missouri said he wouldn't remember."

"I know."

"He said it was a dream. That he was a grown up in his dream and he had a baby boy." Sam shook his head again, his heart thundering inside him. "The demon did something to me, Dean. That thing that killed Mom…it put something inside me."

"Calm down, Sam. We don't know that."

"Like hell." Sam paced between the bed and the window. "What…what does it want? I mean…he's the one who has gifts…I'm just…I'm…"

Dean's hands caught his shoulders, stopped him. "Sam, I need you to calm down."

"You calm down Dean. You're not the one with…with…demon shit inside him." 

Sam's head was pounding, his heart beating furiously and he gulped in air trying to keep from falling even further into panic. 

Dean shook him, grabbed his face and squeezed until Sam looked at him. "Don't, Sam…don't lose it. Not now. I need you."

Dean was scared, Sam realized slowly…scared that whatever darkness Missouri had told him could take Sam was there, rising up inside him. Sam exhaled and inhaled slow and easy, nodding as he felt the fear starting to edge away. 

"Whatever this is, we figure it out together." 

Sam nodded. "Okay. I'm okay."

Dean pulled him into a hug and held him for a long minute. "Need you Sam."

"I know Dean. I’m okay."

 

As long as he didn't think about it, Sam continued to be okay. Dean cooked them breakfast, then walked John down to Sarah's. By the time he came back, Sam had everything laid out on the kitchen table.

He held out his hand as Dean came into the kitchen. Dean sighed and pulled two envelopes out of his jacket pocket. "Here, I jotted down the dates in the notes, check them with that demon book." Sam said as he started looking over the coded notes.

He sat, his fingers strumming over the paper as he traced the words and scribbled the translations. Then he flipped the paper over and stopped, staring at the letter in plain English that Dean had hidden from him.

> If you're reading this, it means I failed, and I've left you a horrible thing, Dean. It means I couldn't stop it…the thing that's coming for Sam…and now it's up to you. 
> 
> He doesn't know yet, Dean, but he inherited something from me, from your mother…something we were born with and kept hidden. But the demon knows and it wants it. Any day now it will start to manifest in him…and when it does, they'll start coming for him. 
> 
> He's been marked, they'll be able to find him no matter where you are. Our only chance is to do this…our only chance to save him is to scrub the mark out of him…and bury the gift, before it becomes too much for him to control.

Sam lowered the paper. "What gift?"

Dean wasn't looking at him. "Dean, what is he talking about?"

"I don't know." 

Sam stared at the letter, reading it over and over. "There was more." He realized it slowly, something in the handwriting, the flow of words telling him there had been another piece of paper. He looked up at Dean. "Where is it?"

Dean sighed and put the book down. "It was nothing Sam, okay?"

Sam sighed and shook his head. "No, Dean. Come on. You told me you'd give me everything."

"Not this." Dean whispered, tight lipped. Dean looked away and when he looked back his face was hard and set. "It isn't important to what we have to do, okay?"

Sam could tell Dean was scared, so he dropped it. "Okay, fine. So, what did he mean then? He's the one with these…gifts. Not me."

"I talked to Missouri about that." Dean said, pulling out the chair opposite Sam and sitting down. "She seemed to think that you haven't developed them yet…that something about the way Dad repressed his or maybe whatever happened with Mom did it, but she says that these things start to show during puberty."

Sam sat back and crossed his arms. "Well, I'm fourteen, Dean. Puberty started a while ago."

Dean shrugged. "Maybe you're a late bloomer." He smirked a little and then sighed. "I'm just in the dark here as you, Sam."

Sam ran a hand over his notes. "So you think whatever this ritual does, it will keep me from getting them?"

"Honestly, I don't know."

"And, why not you?"

Dean frowned at him. "Why not me, what?"

Sam chewed on his lip as he thought about it. "Why me? You're the oldest, shouldn't you be the one with the gifts?"

"It doesn't work that way, I guess."

"So…what? I'm going to start seeing demons and stuff?"

Dean sighed again. "I really don't know Sam. I just know that we have to do this thing, and it looks like our next opportunity is February 12th." He pointed to the book in his hands. "Some demon holiday. Looks like it fits." 

"What about John?" Sam said suddenly. "If this demon is so hot to have me and I don't even have these gifts, what about him? I mean…he does…and he's small and vulnerable…"

Dean looked at him like he hadn't considered that. "He's just a kid Sam."

"Not for long. He's eight, Dean. Puberty is just around the corner…if he can see ghosts and demons now, what happens then? Do we end up having to do this then for him too?"

Dean inhaled and held it, then blew it out slowly. "One thing at a time Sam. We get you taken care of. Then we go from there. Okay?"

It was easier to concentrate on the small things…on one thing. Finish translating all of his father's ridiculous code, put together what they needed. They had a few weeks until the day. "Yeah, Dean. Okay. Lets start putting together lists of what we need."


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 18, Sam is 14. John is 7. Sam keeps looking for the answers, but maybe the answers are finding him as his gifts start to make themselves known.

Sam had all the pieces, every scrap of information, every note, every cipher, every thing out of the storage units that could possibly have everything to do with this, and still, he felt like he was missing something.

He sat in the midst of it on the living room floor at nearly 2am when he should have been in bed…but he was close. He knew he was.

He pushed the letters together. His father knew something. Something more than any of them said on their own. Sam growled in frustration and rubbed at his head. He tried cracking his neck, but it was stiff and uncooperative and it didn't help. His vision swam a little as he heard a creak on the stairs. His breath caught in his throat as everything got dark and suddenly he was seeing devastation, a city in ashes, dead bodies scattered around him. "No." Sam gasped, turning his head, trying to find his way out of whatever this was. 

Black clouds came flying at him and he held up his hands, but they were dripping blood. "NO!" Sam screamed, backpedaling away from dark-eyed faces that were reaching for him. He turned, tripping and falling, only to land on his back, looking up into the face of a man with yellow eyes. A bloody finger rubbed over his mouth and Sam felt his lips parting, his tongue reaching for the blood, sucking it into him…then there was fire and he was being lifted and his father's presence closed around him, so strong it was as if he was really there, his heart beat loud against Sam's ear, his arms strong around him as he pulled Sam from the fire and thrust him into Dean's arms.

"Sam!" Dean's voice cut through the images and the pain. 

Sam opened his eyes, looking up at John and Dean from amidst a pile of broken coffee table. His lip was bleeding. "Dean?" 

Dean squatted next to him. "You okay?"

"I don't know?" 

"He saw." John said, reaching for Dean's hand. "He saw like I see."

Dean's eyes were filled with fear. "Is that true?"

Sam tried to get up, letting Dean help him. "I…saw…something. I don't know what it was."

Dean rubbed over his face. "I'm calling Missouri. She needs to be here."

"Dean, it's the middle of the night." Sam said, not really wanting the psychic involved…not wanting her to see what he saw.

"Which leads me to wonder what in the hell you're doing down here." 

Sam held up his hands. "I don't want to argue, okay?"

John was tugging on him and Sam turned his attention to him. "What Johnny?"

"You saw the black-inside man with yellow eyes."

Sam glanced at Dean, then back to John, dropping to one knee. "Yeah, I did."

"I was right, wasn't I?" John's eyes were big, his hand clutching Sam's. "You were like the baby in my dream. He put his black inside you."

Sam nodded. "He bled into my mouth."

John turned to Dean. "We have to protect him Dad. We have to keep Sam safe. Your Daddy isn't here to do it, so we have to."

Dean was reaching his saturation point, Sam could tell. "I'm going to be just fine, Johnny." Sam said, pushing up to standing again. He was going to be sore in the morning, he could tell. "I have you and Dean looking out for me. No one better in the whole world."

The images rushed into his head if he closed his eyes. Fear nibbled at him. "Lets clean this up in the morning." He steered John toward the stairs, with Dean trailing behind them, turning off lights.

They got John settled into bed and as Sam leaned in to kiss his forehead, John grabbed his face and looked deep into his eyes, nodding when whatever he saw there satisfied him.

Dean followed Sam to his room, standing in the door as Sam stripped out of his clothes. "I'm fine."

"I saw you, that wasn't fine."

He was right, it wasn't fine and Sam was terrified by it. "I guess now we know." Sam kept his back to his brother, trying to hide the fear. "Dad was right…I'm some kind of freak."

Dean moved into the room, standing behind Sam. "Tell me what you saw."

Sam shook his head. "I don't know….it was fast…there were bodies. I think…I think I killed them. Then…I was—" He huffed and ran his hands through his hair. "I think I saw when I was a baby, what happened the night Mom died. There was a man with yellow eyes and he had blood on his finger…he put his finger in my mouth." Sam trembled, tears falling from his eyes. "What does that mean, Dean?"

"I don't know Sam." Dean's hands were on his shoulders, warm and comforting. "You should get some sleep."

Sam nodded, but he didn't want to be alone. "Could you…would you stay?" He hadn't shared a room with his brother in years now, and a bed for longer. Dean didn't respond, just moved to the bed. Sam laid down and Dean climbed in beside him, letting Sam settle in against him. 

Sam sighed, but didn't close his eyes. He didn't expect he'd sleep anytime soon.

 

It was almost a whole week, and two more devastating visions, one of them in front of Matt before Sam conceded to go see Missouri. He and Dean met her at the church. He hadn't even gotten all the way into Pastor Jim's office when she was holding out her arms and reeling him into a hug.

"Oh, child…you poor thing." Her hands soothed over his hair as she drew him over to the chair to sit. "Came up on you hard, didn't it?"

Sam shoved his trembling hands into his pockets, so she wouldn't see them. He didn't really look up at her. "I see things."

He could see her nodding out of the corner his eye. "And not very nice things." Her hands on his knees, turned him toward her. "You're going to have to let me in, Sam." 

He blinked, lifting his eyes. "I don't know how." He whispered the words, wanting to pull Dean closer, wanting something to protect him from the dark that was lurking just under his conscious thought.

"Shhh…you're safe here." Missouri said, her hands rising up to cup his face. "Breathe deep and let it out slow."

Sam glanced up at Dean, who was standing by the bookshelf, arms crossed, his face set and hard. He swallowed and nodded, dragging in a shuddering breath and letting it go slowly, his eyes closing. The dark flashed with images, bright and bloody and moving fast. He could hear Missouri mumbling under her breath, but couldn't make out the words. 

The images slowed as they replayed the scenes from his nursery, from the night his mother died and the yellow-eyed demon bled into him. Missouri made a sound like a snort, her hands sliding away from his face. Sam opened his eyes and looked at her. She sat back in her chair, obviously thinking through what she'd seen.

"That's a right powerful gift you have there, Samuel," she said after a long moment. "Right powerful."

"How do I make it go away?" Sam asked, glancing at Dean.

"Whoa there." Missouri looked at him with a frown. "You gonna just throw away what the good Lord gave you?"

"Lord?" Sam shook his head. "You saw what happened. That demon did this to me—"

"No, child, no. I can't be sure just what that thing was doing, but this gift of yours, that comes from your mother and your daddy, and the good Lord upstairs. It was yours from the day you were born, just like your daddy's was, just like mine."

Sam pushed himself out of the chair. "No. I don't want it…I don't want—"

"Be careful, Sam. Wishing things can make them so." Missouri took a deep breath. "You're confusing your gift with the things that gift is showing you."

Sam paced, pulling his hands through his hair. "If my gift is to see…and what I'm seeing is me doing…" He shuddered and pushed the images away. "…Me doing those terrible things…what…what am I supposed to think?"

"You see possibility, Sam. Possible futures. Gives you the power to change them."

Sam was back to trembling, shoving his hands into his pockets. "And what I saw of the past?"

"Helps you understand the possibilities, the reasons."

"Dad knew this would happen." He looked up at Dean. "He knew what that demon did."

"We don't know for sure." Dean said softly.

"Like hell, Dean. You heard John. His dream was exactly what I saw."

"John sees the same as you, Sam." Missouri interjected. "There isn't anything left that was your daddy, so if he saw something that is like what happened to you, you can bet history is planning on repeating itself."

Sam's heart beat a little faster. "Are you saying…he's going to…I mean…" He hadn't ever really considered that…that John would grow up, and possibly have kids…other kids.

Missouri chuckled. "You think he was going to stay a little boy the rest of his life?"

"No…I…" He looked to Dean for help, but he looked just as spooked by the idea.

"Can we focus on Sam for the moment?" Dean asked. "He's the one Dad was worried about. He's the one Dad got the amulet for."

Missouri's face darkened. "You boys ain't been messing with that, have you? That there's old magic. Not meant for children. Not meant for most mortals to be messing with."

"No." Dean said before Sam could say anything. "We aren't messing with it. I'm trying to keep my family safe, and if this amulet can make Sam safe—"

Missouri crowded Dean into the bookshelf. "You listen to me, Dean Winchester, you go playing with fire, you're gonna burn yourself, and them."

Dean held up his hands as if in surrender and she backed off a bit. "Now, Sam, we need to teach you some ways to handle these visions, control them some."

"I don't want to control them." Sam said. "I want them to go away."

She brushed a hand over his face. "Oh, honey, it ain't that easy. Even your daddy only managed to bury them for a time."

His stomach rumbled angrily and his head twinged, sudden stabbing pain through his temple. He grabbed at Dean for balance. "Shit." His knees buckled as the vision came. 

_John. Scared. The school seemed shadowed, dark. John was afraid of someone. He was hiding. His face turned toward Sam's._

_"New teacher is black inside Sammy. He's hurting kids. Wants to hurt me."_

_Sam got flashes of a face, a teacher he didn't know, boys crying. "We have to help them."_

Just as suddenly it was gone, leaving Sam on his knees, panting with Dean squatting beside him. "Sam?" His voice was gentle, but it grated over Sam's ears. His hand felt warm on Sam's back as Sam tried to catch his breath.

"John. I think…I think he's in trouble." Sam looked up at Dean. "I think there's a demon at his school molesting little boys."

"Was it future, Sam?" Missouri asked.

He shook his head. "I don't know…maybe?" He tried to feel for the vision, but there was no reference of time. "He was scared."

Dean stood. "He hasn't said anything about a new teacher or any demons at school."

"Maybe we should go check on him." Sam pressed himself to standing, breathing through the dizziness it brought on.

"I'll go." Dean said. "I want you to stay here." Sam turned to him, already ready to argue. "I mean it, Sam. You're safer here. At least until we know what's going on."

"You can't expect me to just—"

Dean held up his hand. "Please don't argue with me on this." Sam met his eyes, read the fear there and gave in.

"Fine. I'll stay here."

"Good."

Dean headed for the door, pausing when it was obvious Missouri was following him. "Where are you going?"

"With you. You gonna figure out which one's a demon by asking them?"

Sam watched them go, following them out into the lobby. When the doors closed and he was alone, he headed into the sanctuary. It had been a while since he'd been in the church…he'd forgotten how good the quiet could feel.

He slipped into a pew and breathed in, willing the pain in his head to withdraw. He didn't like sitting and waiting. But, he didn't like how afraid Dean was even more. They had to figure this whole thing out…had to find away to stop this. He didn't know how or what all his father had known, but if it was enough to make John Winchester want to hide Sam from the rest of the hunters, and if it was going to keep demons coming after them…if it was going to lead to Sam becoming the man he saw in his visions? Sam was ready to do whatever his father had set up for him.

A shadow fell across him and Sam looked up. A man smiled softly at him and continued down the aisle, standing at the altar, staring up at the cross with a rapt expression. Somehow, Sam felt as though the man was still looking at him though.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Sam did not want to have a conversation about the aesthetics of church art. "I suppose."

The man turned, a half smile on his face. There was something…off about him. Sam felt the hair on his arms stand up and he slowly stood himself, inching into the aisle. 

"Do not fear me." 

He turned full on to Sam at that point and there was an odd flutter in his stomach, a twisting pull on his heart and he got the vaguest impression that the room got darker, and all the light in the room seemed to fall on him. 

"Not…" Sam shook his head, backing away. "Takes a lot more than you to scare me."

He took a step closer. "I mean you no harm." 

"Yeah, I've heard that before."

"Samuel Winchester, I am here to help you."

"How do you know my name?" Sam took another step back. This man was seriously making him nervous.

"I was sent for you."

"Who are you?"

The man cocked his head to the side and looked at Sam as though he were confused. "I am an Angel of the Lord, Samuel."

Sam didn't know whether to laugh or run. He settled for backing up even more, though now the man was advancing on him. "No, really…"

"I have a gift for you."

"No offence, dude, but I don't know you. I mean…angels don't…" Sam turned, ready to run, but before he'd taken two steps, the man was in front of him, holding his hand out. On his hand was a gun.

An antique looking gun.

"This is for you." He held it out to Sam who looked at it, then up at the man and back again. "You will find that the ammunition your father left you will only work with this gun." 

Sam lifted his hand hesitantly. The metal of the gun was cool the touch. "What…what is it?"

"Your last line of defense."

Sam pulled the gun to him, letting his fingers caress the metal. "Do not use it idly."

"What does that mean?" Sam looked up, but the man was already leaving. "Hey!"

He stopped at the church doors, the sudden light making him hard to see. "We will meet again, Samuel Winchester."

Sam covered his eyes as the man stepped out into the sun, the light flaring around him and giving him the impression of…no, Sam wasn't even going to think that. He turned away, blinking to help his eyes adjust to the darker sanctuary. He held the gun. There was a pentagram carved in the hilt and the long lines of it were beautiful, the weight of it comfortable and familiar in his hand. 

He sat back down on one of the pews. "Last line of defense." He shook his head and snorted. "Angel of the Lord my ass." Like he didn't have enough shit to deal with as it was.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 19, Sam is 14. John is 7. Dean is trying to deal with the eruption of Sam's gifts along with Sam's teenage emotional wreckage, John's curiosity and the sudden influx of an angel into the chaotic mess of their lives.

Dean Winchester felt a hell of a lot older than nineteen as he sat in his car, staring at the church. Maybe it was the way he was essentially the father of a nearly fifteen year old and an seven year old. Maybe it was the burden of knowledge his father left him with, or the weight of Sam's gifts or who knew what.

"Dad?"

Dean sighed. "Yeah, John?"

"Is Missouri right about Sam?"

"In what way?"

John climbed up to lean over the seat. "She thinks Sam should want the dreams and stuff, says they come from God."

"I don't know John. Maybe."

"His always seem so scary."

Dean nodded at that. John saw all manner of things, from ghosts to the gifts of others, emotions and only some of it scared him. Sam on the other hand…the visions that came during the day were vicious, knocking him over with images of death and gore and pain. "I know buddy. We're hoping this helps him get a few that aren't so scary." 

Sam was inside the church with Missouri, learning how to control his gifts or find out what the demon actually did to him when he was a baby…or something. 

He'd been quiet since the vision that had sent Dean and Missouri scurrying to the school to check on John and the state of any new teachers. It ended up being something they had to wait on. The guy didn't show up for almost a week…and when he did, Dean and Pastor Jim had exorcised the demon before he could lay a hand on a single kid.

Sam was still insisting that he didn't want to control the gift, he just wanted it gone, but he was humoring Dean for the moment, and working with Missouri every other day.

"Why would God give Sammy scary ones and me sparkly ones?" John asked. "Is it cause Sammy's so much bigger and he doesn't get scared?"

Dean smiled at him. "Oh Sam gets plenty scared. That's why he wants them to go away."

"Maybe if he could see the sparkly things more he wouldn't want them to go away."

Dean was watching the church door, so he was surprised when he suddenly noticed a man in a long trench coat standing beside them. "Sparkly like what John?" Dean asked as he leaned forward, squinting at the man, trying to decide if he was a threat and how to handle it if he was.

"Like the man by the church. He's so sparkly he's white."

Dean looked at John, then back at the man. "White?" 

John nodded. "He's like the opposite of the black-inside people."

"I want you to wait in the car."

"Are you going to meet him? I want to meet him. I've never met a white-inside person before."

"John." Dean wasn't fast enough, John was out of the car and racing toward the church. "Fuck." He climbed out of the car and jogged after John and up the steps.

"Dad, this is Castiel….Castiel, this is my dad, Dean." John grabbed Dean's hand and pulled him closer. "He's an angel."

"Right. An angel." Dean licked his lips and looked the guy up and down. "Why don't you run inside and see if Sam's ready."

John pouted at him. "I want to talk to Castiel. He's really sparkly and white and he can fly. You can fly, right? I mean, that's how I see you in my head. With great big wings and a sword."

Castiel ruffled John's hair. "Run along. We'll have plenty of time to talk."

"No offense, dude, but who are you. Really?" Dean asked as John ran for the doors.

"I might ask you the same thing, Dean. You are not his father."

Fear flushed through him and Castiel held up a hand. "You need not fear me. I am an angel of the Lord, sent to help your brother on his journey."

Dean snorted. "Seriously, that the best you've got? I mean…I've seen a lot of things. A lot of things. But angels are new to me."

"Is it so easy to believe in demons, but not angels?"

Dean shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Demons I've seen. Angels? Not so much."

"And yet, here I am."

"Here you are. What exactly is it that you want?"

"It isn't about what I want, Dean, it is about what the Lord commands."

"Right. Because that's what's important." He moved around the whack job in the trench coat for the doors. "Look, whoever you are, I ain't buying what you're selling so—"

The door opened, John pulling Sam out through the door. "See Sam? See?"

Sam's eyes skipped disdainfully over Castiel, then up to Dean. "What is he doing here?"

Sam's face was pale, his eyes sunken with dark circles from lack of sleep. "What? You know him?"

Sam grimaced and shook his head. "No, not really. Remember I told you there was a whack job? Dean, Whack Job. Whack Job, my brother Dean."

"I have told you my name is Castiel."

"Whatever. Are we done here? I'm hungry." Sam turned and headed for the car, dismissing Castiel as if he weren't even there.

"You should not ignore me, Samuel." 

Sam stopped dead in his tracks half way to the car and turned back. "It's Sam. And I'm hungry and I'm tired and I have hours of homework to do, not to mention I was supposed be spending tonight with Matt and some friends. If you've got something to say, Angel boy, I'm all ears."

Castiel seemed dumbfounded by Sam's outburst, his mouth closing as he thought about a response.

"Too late. Dean, lets go." Sam was in the car, door shut. Just like that.

"John, get in the car." Dean turned back to the so-called angel. "Sorry, guess he doesn't believe you either."

"Believe me or not, Dean, he needs to hear the truth. He needs to know that he can not relinquish his gifts."

Dean had gotten past the point of being surprised anymore and didn't bat an eye that this stranger knew that much about Sam. "Yeah, well…not that it's any of your business, but he's not relinquishing anything just yet."

"Then why does he still collect the things he needs for the ceremony? Why does he already have a place picked out, the ground hallowed?" Castiel leaned in to Dean's space, his voice lowered. "Terrible, evil things will happen, and your brother might never come back from the places such actions will take him. Be warned, Dean Winchester."

Dean stepped back. "Yeah, okay then. Consider me warned."

He heaved a heavy sigh when he got the car door closed behind him. "Do you want to tell me what in the hell that was about?"

The anger drained off Sam's face as John leaned over the seat and waved at Castiel who was still watching them. "What? You wouldn't have believed me."

"But you should have told me. We promised, remember? No more secrets. I can't help you if you don't tell me everything."

"You can't help me anyway, Dean." Sam said bitterly. "No one can. Not Pastor Jim, not Missouri. I'm fucked. Should just take me out and put me down."

Dean closed his eyes, the pain of Sam's misery almost more than he could handle. "Sam, don't say that. We'll get through this."

"No Dean. You will. John probably will. I don't think I can."

John's small hand was on Sam's shoulder. "You can Sammy. Because we're going to help you. Right Dad?"

Dean started the car and headed home. He didn't know what to say to Sam, didn't know how to make it better. Wasn't even really sure Sam wasn't right. 

 

Dinner was quiet and Sam withdrew before he'd done much more than pick at his food, disappearing behind his bedroom door with the excuse that he had homework to finish.

Dean helped John with his homework, got him bathed and into his jammies and tucked him into bed with a story.

"You're worried about Sam." John said quietly as Dean put the book away. 

"I worry because that's my job." Dean said, coming back to sit on the bed. "You don't need to worry." 

"He's right sometimes. It isn't fair. Sometimes I see what he sees, and it's ugly…and it's frightening and he's all alone."

Dean shook his head. "He isn't alone, he's got us."

"No. That isn't what I mean. In the place in his dreams, he's all alone. But sometimes what he sees isn't real." His face pinched up and he looked like he was trying to find the words to explain what he meant. "The future stuff moves around, it changes all the time. But his doesn't."

"What do you mean?"

John bit his lip for a minute. "Well, 'member Sam saw a black-inside man at my school, hurting kids…but you found him and made it so he didn't hurt anyone?"

Dean nodded, pulling the blankets up around John.

"Sam saw the first time and it was bad. The second time, when the man was actually there, he saw the black leave him. It changed."

"Because Pastor Jim and I were there to exorcise the demon."

John nodded. "But Sam saw the black leave him the day before you did it."

Dean frowned. "He never told me."

John looked down at his hands. "He doesn't tell you a lot of things. He worries about you too."

"He does? Why does Sam worry about me?"

"He thinks you work too hard, and that you try too much to be like your Dad…but he doesn't want you to be his dad, he just wants you to be his brother."

"Anything else you want to tell me before I tuck you in?" Dean asked, rising.

"Don't tell Sam I told you. He'll be angry."

Dean kissed his forehead and helped him move so that he was laying down under the covers. "Don't worry, Kid. I got your back."

 

Sam's light was still on. Dean knocked, but when Sam didn't answer, he opened the door anyway. Sam was asleep amidst piles of books on the bed, propped up against pillows. Dean moved quietly into the room, shifting books to the desk slowly. He eased the book out of Sam's hand and set it aside, then pulled the extra blanket off the end of the bed, settling it over his brother.

He turned off the bedside light, but couldn't bring himself to leave the room. He sank down onto the bed, watching Sam sleep. So much had happened in the last year that Dean sometimes forgot that Sam wasn't even fifteen yet, but looking at him Dean could see it…so young and it really wasn't fair. None of this was.

Sam whimpered, his head tossing, his hand clenching into a fist. "No…no…get away…" Sam flailed in his sleep, his arms lifting to push something away. 

Dean reached for him, catching a hand. Sam seemed to quiet, though not completely still. "Dean…Dean….don't leave me Dean." Sam's voice was plaintive, desperate.

Dean blinked at the tears, shaking his head as he laid down next to Sam, pulling him tight against his body. "Never Sammy. Never letting you go."

 

Dean woke stiff and sore and feeling very out of place. It took him a moment to realize he was still in Sam's bed. Sam was sleeping beside him and the dark told him it was still night. 

Slowly, he extricated himself from Sam and the blanket and eased himself out of the room. He checked on John who was curled up around Mr. Turtle and sound asleep, then took himself to the kitchen. It was almost 2 in the morning, but he wasn't ready to try sleeping again. His dreams had been filled with a hopeless landscape where he couldn't find Sam or John, where he was alone.

He pulled a beer out of the fridge and cracked it open, leaning on the counter. Maybe Sam was right in this whole mess…just get rid of the damn gifts, live a normal life…hope for the best.

Thunder cracked outside the window and Dean jumped. He jumped a second time when he realized there was someone leaning against the counter beside him. "Hello Dean."

"Holy Fucking Hell." Dean dropped his beer, backpedaling away from the angel.

"Did I startle you?"

"You could say that." Dean pulled in a deep breath and wiped a hand over his face. "What is it you want?"

"Your brother is heading down a dangerous path."

"Yeah, well I'm starting to side with him. This thing is eating him alive." Dean squatted down to pick up the pieces of glass. "Seriously, have you seen him? He hardly sleeps, he barely eats. At least my father's plan gets him a good night's sleep."

"Your father did not see all the possible outcomes of his plan, Dean."

"My father never did. That never stopped him before."

"It did this time."

Dean stopped and looked up at Castiel. "What? Are you telling me that you did this to him?"

Castiel sort of shrugged, an eyebrow raised. "No, I did not. I merely arranged for him and the creature who did do this to be in the same place at the same time."

"Why?" Dean stood, throwing his shards of glass into the trash. "What possible reason does turning him into a kid again serve? What grand plan?"

"Your father was in the way, Dean. He was going to get hurt. Now he has an opportunity to live a life differently."

"And what about what that does to me and Sam? Huh?" Dean wanted to punch the self-righteous son-of-a-bitch. "Sam is just a kid. Just a kid. This is too much to ask of him." He squatted by the beer puddle with a towel, soaking up the liquid and using the towel to pick up the small pieces of glass. "Too much to ask of me."

He stood, dumping the whole mess into the sink. "So maybe you should go back to wherever the fuck you came from and think about that. Maybe you should stop fucking around in people's lives like they're goddamn toys. I'm nobody's fucking plaything and I'm done being bullied and pushed and afraid. So get the fuck out of my house."

Castiel stood there, arms crossed, bemused look on his face. 

"Now!" Dean screamed, eyes closing. When he opened them again, the angel was gone. Somehow it didn't make him feel any safer.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 19, Sam is just shy of 15. John is 7. John gives Sam something to think about when he shows Sam one of his nightmares in a different light. Castiel offers to help, after showing Sam a piece of his past.

Sam finally had it all put together. He understood what his father had set out to do, even if he didn't understand all of the risks. He had a day picked out. Now that he really understood, he knew that it wasn't enough to be a demon holiday. There was more to it. The day of his fifteenth birthday. A full moon. 

He had everything he needed. All he had to do was wait.

The problem was waiting was only making everything worse. The nightmares came more frequently. The visions were debilitating. He'd stopped telling Dean about them. In fact, he'd stopped talking to anyone about a whole lot of anything. Some mornings, he didn't even get out of bed to go to school.

It wasn't really that he meant to shut everyone out, but he couldn't talk about the pros and cons of a federalized healthcare system or the merits of Free Trade agreements or the history of ancient Rome like they mattered anymore. Not when he could see people dying, not when he could look at his debating partner and know that his father was abusing him, or at his teacher and know that he was sleeping with two different students.

He couldn't look at Dean and see anything but his constant state of worry, fear, fatigue. There was darkness everywhere he looked anymore. Everywhere but John.

Everyday John came into his room, climbed up on his bed and read him a story, just like Sam used to do for him. Everyday John talked to him about Mr. Turtle and the kids in school and his teacher and Dean. 

When Sam looked at him, he could only see…well…sparkles. Just like John would say about Missouri or sometimes Sam.

"It's late, Johnny. You should get to bed." Sam said, though he really didn't want John to go anywhere. The nightmares and the visions didn't come when John was there.

John's hands were on his knees and Sam looked up, actually looked at him. "I need to show you something."

"John, I'm tired."

John pushed his legs together and sat straddling them. "I've been waiting for you to see it yourself, Sammy, but you don't, and I'm going to show you."

Sam adjusted himself and looked at John. He was very serious and maybe not as sparkly as he had been a few minutes before. "What John?"

"Last night you had a nightmare. I saw."

Sam started, not realizing John could do that. "Johnny, you should have told me."

He put one small hand on Sam's lips and shook his head. "I don't mind. Not the important part."

"Okay, what is the important part?" Sam asked, horrified that John would have seen any of what he'd dreamed the night before.

John moved until his face was very close to Sam's. "It was the same dream from before. You were alone. People were dead."

Sam shivered. They were dead because he'd killed them. Somehow he knew that. "It's always the same." The landscape was sometimes different, but the faces were all the same, all the people he knew and cared about.

"Want to know what I saw?" John's voice was softer now, breathy and when Sam looked his eyes were half closed. Sam swallowed and could feel John, could feel that he was seeing something. "Look Sammy, look what I saw."

Missouri had been trying to teach him, and sometimes he had the strength to do just what he wanted. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, opening himself up. He got a glimpse of devastation, burning, bleeding and it was just like his nightmare, but then he felt John, reached for him and the whole thing shifted. 

Suddenly he was looking at himself, at the fire in his hand, at the anger on his own face. John pointed. Behind Sam was a shadow. It was behind him…not quite a man. Inky black darkness and it had Sam, a band of the dark around his waist, around his throat.

Suddenly everything vanished and John sagged in his arms. "Not inside you Sammy." John said around a yawn. "Not inside you."

"Shh…it's okay Johnny. I saw it." Sam held John to him, his small body feeling so light and warm compared to Sam. John's breathing evened out and Sam knew he was asleep, knew he should take the kid back to his own bed. He didn't know what it meant, wasn't sure what to make of the shadow or the way it held him, wasn't sure it even mattered that it wasn't inside him.

He closed his eyes, breathing in and feeling the rush of light that came from John. When he was like this, there was a familiar presence about him, a feeling Sam had never noticed until Missouri had helped him learn to feel things differently, using his gifts as well as his skin and emotion. He sighed, relishing the comfort of his father's presence in the little boy in his arms. 

 

He woke to the door bursting open, to Dean's panic and John starting awake in his arms. "Dean?"

"John wasn't in his room." Dean said, sitting on the bed. Sam could feel his brother's heart racing as he sat up, stretching and surprised to find the sun streaming in his window.

"What time is it?" Sam asked, unable to see around John to find the clock.

"Almost eight." Dean responded, letting John climb into his lap. "John wasn't downstairs watching cartoons, and he wasn't in his room. I got a little scared."

John smiled. "I was with Sam. I helped him sleep."

"Is that right?" Dean asked, smiling for John, though his eyes showed Sam his concern.

"Not a single nightmare, right Sam?"

"Well, unless we're counting that thing with fairies…?" Sam said, rubbing his head. Somehow he knew that it had been John's dream, not his.

John giggled. "Angels. Not fairies."

"Whatever, they had wings." Sam stretched. He felt better than he had in months. "I'm gonna shower."

"Why don't you and I go make pancakes?" Dean said as he lifted John stood.

"With chocolate sprinkles!" John declared as Dean flew him out of the room. 

"He makes a good father." 

Sam jumped and whirled. Castiel looked at him as though Sam should have expected him. Sam shut his door and crossed his arms. "Do you mind?" Castiel raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise didn't respond. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want, Samuel."

"My name is Sam. And no, I really don't know what you want."

"I want you to fulfill your destiny."

Sam snorted and shook his head. "Destiny? Is that what we're calling it? No offense, dude, but I'd rather not."

"I do not speak of the visions, Sam, they are but one outcome of a future that is not yet decided."

"You're starting to sound like a fortune cookie." Sam said. 

"I am here to help you--"

"You know, you keep saying that but so far, all you've done is give me a gun that I'm not even sure will fire and tell me not to do the only thing that seems to make sense to me. I'm getting better advice from my seven year old--John."

"Perhaps if you would allow me to finish speaking--"

"No." Sam shook his head. "You've got nothing to say to me that would change my mind."

"Fine, have it your way." Castiel was suddenly in his face, one finger pressing to Sam's forehead and the world tilted away. He was falling, flailing, then just as suddenly, standing in a darkened nursery, looking down at an infant. The baby batted its hands up at him, his whole being sparkling like John did. Castiel's hand was on his shoulder. 

"What just happened?"

"I decided to show you, since you would not listen."

"Who is that?"

"That is you, Samuel." They moved as footsteps moved up the hall.

"Mom?" He recognized her from old pictures his father had kept. She padded across the floor in her bare feet, smiling down at the baby. One hand brushed over his forehead. There was a soft glow about her, not quite sparkly like John. She hummed a little and whispered goodnight, then left the room again. "Why here? Why this?"

"Patience." Castiel said beside him. There was a shadow at the door, a man moving into the room.

"Who is that?" It was very clear to see that it wasn't his father.

"That is Azazel."

Yellow eyes flicked to the corner where they were watching, as if it knew they were there. "Hey there Sammy." He touched the infant, then lifted his hand. With a flash of a knife, he pricked his finger, watching the blood well up.

Sam's heart was racing. "No. Stop him." He lurched forward, but Castiel held him in place.

"What is done can not be undone, Samuel. We are here to observe."

The bloody finger descended into the crib. Sam could almost taste the coppery tang of the blood as it filled the baby's mouth. Azazel's mouth moved, but his voice was too soft to hear. "What is he saying?"

"Only you and he know that, Samuel."

"John?" His mother filled the doorway again and Azazel turned, yellow eyes flashing. "You-" Her scream filled the air as she was pinned to the wall and dragged up toward the ceiling. 

"No!" Sam lurched forward, almost breaking Castiel's hold on him. His mother's blood dripped from the ceiling, flames starting to nip at her nightgown. "No!" Anguish ripped through him and Sam turned in to Castiel, burying his face in the angel's chest. Arms closed around him, strong and warm and there was a brief feeling like wings enfolding them, then the world tipped again and when he breathed in they were standing once more in his own bedroom.

Castiel released him and Sam staggered to the bed, sinking onto it and lifting shaking hands to rub at his face. "Why?"

Castiel's hand was gentle on his head. "Because you needed to know."

"Know what?" Sam asked, willing away the burning tears.

"Azazel did not give you these gifts. They were a part of you before he came to you."

"Why did he…do what he did?"

Castiel's hand stroked over his hair. "We do not know for certain, Samuel. He corrupts the gift that God has given you, that much we know. We can not know the reason."

Tears spilled down his face and he curled forward to escape the gentle gesture of the angel's calming hand. "I don't want it."

"I know." 

Sam curled in tighter, holding his stomach. "I'm afraid."

"I know." Castiel knelt beside him, his hand sliding down Sam's back now. "You are not alone, Samuel."

He couldn't hold back the sob, falling into the angel's open arms. "I don't want it to be true."

"It is much to ask of one so young." Castiel murmured and Sam got the sense that maybe those words weren't really aimed at him. Castiel held him while he cried. "It is much to risk."

There was a flutter nearby and Sam looked up. There was no one else in the room but Castiel. "Who…what is much to risk?"

"There is perhaps a way to make you stronger, to help you through this transition without losing you to the dark, without you relinquishing those gifts to which you were born." 

Sam stood, moving away from Castiel. "There is? I'm not going to like it, am I?"

Castiel stood also. "As I said, it is much to risk, and I am uncertain of the outcome."

Sam wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. "Are you going to tell me?"

Castiel squared his shoulders, his incredibly blue eyes staring into Sam. "My blood, Samuel."

Sam felt his face pale and stepped backward. "You mean…like what he did?"

"It is not a deed done lightly."

"Will it make the visions stop?"

"No." Castiel stepped closer. "In fact, it may intensify them. It may speed up your development, make your gifts manifest more quickly."

"You mean there's more than this?" Sam asked breathlessly, stepping away again. Castiel followed.

"Much more, Sam. You were born to be a warrior. To fight."

"What if I don't want to fight?"

Castiel cocked his head, confusion evident on his face. "Would you sit and watch the innocent die?"

"No…of course not." Sam's back hit the wall and Castiel was still closing on him. "Wait. Just slow down."

"God has work for you."

"Yeah? Well maybe I have a question or two for him first." He held up his hands to hold Castiel at arm's length. "Just slow down. I can't just…I have to talk to Dean."

Castiel backed off a step. "Your brother does not appreciate my presence."

Sam choked on a dark snort of laughter and scratched his head. "It kind of runs in the family." He moved around the angel and took a deep breath. "Give me a little bit to think? Come back in a few hours. I want to…"

"Think?" Castiel supplied. He reached a hand to cup Sam's face. "Think on this Samuel Winchester. The battle is yet to come. That is years from now. This is only your gifts awakening, a task made dark and dangerous by Azazel's blood. I offer only to help restore the balance of dark and light within you." He stepped back and nodded. "I will return when you have had time to think."


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is 19, Sam is just shy of 15. John is 7. Sam and Dean talk about Castiel's offer, and Dean, predictably doesn't take it very well, but when Sam's growing gifts become a threat to his family, Sam may make the decision without his brother's consent.

Sam stepped out of the shower, his hands still trembling a little after his encounter with the angel. He was stalling and he knew it. He was going to have to talk to Dean, he was going to have to make a decision.

He dried off slowly and dressed even more slowly. By the time he made it to the kitchen, Dean and John were sitting down, eating pancakes. John handed Sam a plate, grinning. Sam smiled distractedly and sat, not really eating or looking at either of them.

In his mind, the images of his mother and Azazel filled him, the taste of blood, the sound of his mother screaming. He could feel Dean's eyes and tried to look up. He didn't quite reach Dean's eyes before he sighed and looked back down at his plate. 

John finished eating and let Dean wash his face before he was running off to the living room to watch television. Dean refilled his coffee cup and sat down again. "I thought you said no nightmares."

Sam inhaled sharply and nodded. "No, this is…something else."

Dean sipped at his coffee and watched him. "You gonna tell me?"

"You won't like it."

"I don't like any of this Sam."

Sam nodded, picking at the pancakes on his plate. "I know. I'm sorry I haven't…well, I've been…"

Dean's hand slid over the table and touched his. "What's going on?"

"Castiel." Sam said the name and caught the way Dean reacted, even without looking up at him. "He just…he came to me after you left my room."

"Son of a bitch." Dean pushed his chair back and stood. He paced back and forth for a minute. "I told him to leave you alone."

Sam snorted and sat back. "He's an angel, Dean. I don't think he takes orders from you." He shook his head. "I think he wants to help. I just…honestly, I'm scared." He dared a glance up. Dean had stopped pacing. "More now than I was before, if that's possible."

"Why? What did he do?" Dean was defensive, hands on his hips.

Sam held up his hands. "He showed me what happened to me when I was a baby…I saw…I saw Mom die, Dean." His breathe caught in his throat as it filled him again, her scream, the flames, her blood dripping from her stomach. Sam started when Dean's hand fell on his shoulder and he looked up at his brother. "I…the demon, he was there, in my room, and he…he bled…" Sam's stomach churned as he tasted it again. "He fed me blood, Dean…he said something to me, and put blood in my mouth, then Mom walked in and he killed her."

Dean's hand tightened and Sam found himself turning, burying his face in Dean's stomach while Dean's other hand stroked through his hair. He took a couple of shuddering breaths and pulled back. "But…he said that these…the visions and crap…that they were mine before…that the demon changed me, corrupted me somehow."

"Sam, we don't even know if he's telling you the truth." Dean sat in the chair next to him.

"I think he is. I don't know how to explain it. But I believe him. And…he says there might be a way to make it…better."

Dean's eyes narrowed, his face tightened. "You're making a face. I'm not going to like this."

"I already told you that." Sam said, though Dean was right, he wasn't going to like it. "The thing is, I'm almost more scared of his solution than I am of just making it all go away." He scrubbed his face. "He says I'm supposed to be some kind of warrior and…" He shook his head. "Honestly, Dean? I don't know. I just want the nightmares to stop. I want to sleep and not be afraid of every headache, every fucking shadow."

"Tell me what he said." Dean pulled a chair closer, sat in it and leaned in. 

Sam licked his lips. "Well, he said he's not sure what it'll do."

"Sam!" Dean was getting exasperated with him.

Sam took a deep breath. "He wants to do the same thing that the demon did."

Dean sat back, blinking at him like he wasn't sure he'd heard him right. "The demon? He wants to…" Sam could see when it dawned on him, when he realized what Sam meant. "Oh fuck no." Dean stood suddenly, sending the chair toppling backward. "No. No, Sam. No."

He paced around the table and back to Sam's side. "Is he out of his fucking mind?"

"Dean, calm down." Sam said, standing himself and catching his brother. "I told him I had to talk to you, that I had to think about it."

"The answer is still no, Sam. No. Just…" Dean's hands dragged through his hair. "Haven't we been through enough? Our whole lives have been fucked over, and every time it seems like we might finally be getting it together…"

"But we're not." Sam said softly. "I'm not." He sighed and walked to the door to check on John. "I can't sleep unless you or John are in the room." He heard Dean's sharp intake of air. "Yeah, I know. I can feel you." He watched John jump from the chair to the couch and back again. "I'm not saying I want to do…what he wants. I'm saying I don't want to keep living like this. I can't keep living like this." He lowered his eyes and swallowed. "If I can't…if this is how it's going to be Dean, I'm going to break…I'm going to become the person I keep seeing in my dreams. I'm going to…" He shook his head, tried to pull himself up out of the desperation. "I don't want that."

 

They put the argument aside for the moment, and headed out to the park with John on his bike and the kite he'd been bugging them to try, and it felt weird to Sam. He watched Dean untangle the string and wind it up around a stick. He couldn't remember the last time, before their father had become John, that they had spent the day doing anything like this. Their family days tended to revolve around training and target practice and researching.

The spring day was warm, reminding him that his birthday was just a few days away. It seemed hard to believe that John had been with them for two years, that Sam was about to be fifteen. Then again, so much had happened in those two years, some days Sam was half convinced it had been twice as long. 

John laughed as the kite tanked on Dean and he ran after it, the sun bright and shining off his brown hair. Sam's breath caught in his throat, suddenly feeling like the air was choked with sulfur. He tried to call out to Dean, but no sound came. Clouds covered the sun. People were shouting, but Sam couldn't drag his eyes off of John.

He seemed to turn, his eyes growing dark as he grew, suddenly his father again. Sam turned on Dean, slashing at him, tearing into his skin, dropping him to the ground, he couldn't stop himself, like something was reaching through him, making him do it. All around them children were screaming and Sam's skin felt slick with blood. He lurched away, pulling at the heavy weight that seemed to hold him, like hands on his limbs, his throat, yanking him back, dragging him toward the dark that had swallowed up the sky, the sun, all that was behind them, all that was important.

Dean lay twitching on the ground and Sam screamed his name, reaching for him even as his father charged toward Sam, eyes flashing now and Sam held up his hands, screaming in rage and fear.

"Samuel." The voice was cold, cutting through him, wrapping around him. Sam was panting, flailing, but arms, strong and definite pressed around him, holding him as darkness swooped in.

"Sam?" 

A warm hand touched his face, petting over him slow. The hand was shaking Sam realized slowly. He was wet, shivering. He opened his eyes.

Dean knelt next to him, his face bruised, his shirt torn. "Sam, can you hear me?"

Sam nodded, but regretted it instantly as pain lanced through him and panic nibbled at him. "Dean? What happened?"

Dean sat back, his eyes tracking to Sam's other side. Sam turned his head. John stood beside Castiel, his face turned away from Sam into the angel's leg. Castiel's hand stroked absently over his head. Sam looked back at Dean. "Did I…" He lifted a hand to touch Dean's face, but Dean pulled away.

Sam pushed to sit up, but Dean held him down. "Rest, Sam."

"It's raining Dean." Sam said, squinting into the rain that seemed to have come out of nowhere.

"Yeah, you won't melt." Dean pushed wet hair off Sam's face. "Just…go slow."

"What happened?"

"You freaked out." Dean said softly, glancing up at Castiel, then back down at Sam. "He…knocked you out before you could hurt anyone."

"Too late." Sam said, his hand reaching up for Dean's face again.

"I'll live."

"This time." Sam muttered, shoving himself up off the ground and climbing to his feet. "What the fuck did I do?"

"You were screaming about Dad and demons and you hit me, threw me into the damn slide." Dean said, following him up. 

"How could I throw you?" Sam turned and looked at him. "Dean?"

Dean wouldn't look at him. "You didn't even touch me Sam."

Sam doubled over, holding his stomach as it churned inside him. "I could have killed you." One of these times he was going to. Sam knew it. He'd seen it enough times in his dreams.

"I'm fine." Dean insisted.

"You are not fine." Castiel said finally. "Samuel is correct. If you continue down this path, he will kill you."

"No." Dean put himself between Sam and Castiel. "You stay the hell away."

"Dean--" Sam pressed his hands against his temples, pressing against the pain that thumped through his head.

"It isn't right Sam."

"And this is?"

John sobbed and turned tighter into Castiel and Sam stopped to look at him. "Did I…did I hurt him?"

"No, Samuel. You did not." Castiel soothed a hand over John's head and slowly John lifted his tear-streaked face.

"The shadow-man." John said, his voice trembling. He reached for Sam, practically flew into his arms. "I saw him." Sam held him, overwhelmed as words and pictures flew at him. "He saw me, Sam. He saw me. He never saw me before."

"What the hell does he mean?" Dean asked.

Sam hushed, John, stroking a hand down his back. "Let's get out of the rain." He headed for the house, trusting that Dean and Castiel both would follow. He used the space to try to make sense of the jumbled images he'd gotten from John. He let them into the house, peeling John's wet clothes off him as they climbed the stairs. "Get into something warm, Johnny." Sam set him down outside his room and headed into his own to change.

By the time he got downstairs, Dean was pacing, still wet and Castiel stood, impassive by the door. 

"Explain."

Sam nodded, then shook his head. "I don't know if I can. It got dark, then John was Dad, and I was…I killed you…or something killed you through me…and I couldn't stop it." Sam hugged himself, turning away. "Someone was dragging me into the black and I couldn't breathe and you were dead and…." He stopped himself, remembering what John saw. He looked up the stairs, but John's door was still closed. 

"I saw John as Dad, so did Azazel." He turned to Castiel. "He knows that John is not just an average kid."

"That's why he comes after me." John's voice said suddenly from the stairs. Sam and Dean both turned to him, but his face had that distant look on it. "Why he comes to get my little boy…if he can't have you, he'll take…" John blinked and looked up at them. "I…I think…" He was frowning, trying to focus, but it was obvious that whatever thought he was chasing was elusive, slippery. "How can I be your father?"

Dean gasped and John tilted his head. "I'm not supposed to know…but I saw me, I saw me in Sam's head when the shadow man saw me and I saw the other John in his head before and I'm him and he's me and I don't understand."

Sam pulled his hands through his hair, it was all too much and he was drowning in it. He just wanted it all to stop. He felt a hand on his back and turned to Castiel. His blue eyes were filled with compassion, and Sam wanted desperately to believe that he could make it all better. 

"If I do this, will John be safe?" Sam asked, looking the angel in the eye. "Will Azazel send the demons that have been looking for him?"

"I can not know that, Samuel." Castiel said, advancing a step.

"Sam, no." Dean came at them, but Castiel raised a hand and Dean stopped, like there was suddenly a glass wall between them. "Sam!"

He swallowed and took a step back, but Castiel followed. "When it's over…what…what will I be?"

"The same as you are now, a warrior for God." There was a knife in his hand, the blade flashing as he held it up, as he brought it to bear against his arm. Sam backed up a step, the chair suddenly behind him, catching him when he would have fallen. 

Castiel reached for him, blood flowing down his arm. Sam could hear Dean, but all he could see was the red flow of redemption. Holding his breath, Sam leaned forward, mouth open. He recoiled at the first taste, but forced himself to swallow. It filled his mouth, white hot and slick, filled his senses. Castiel pulled away and Sam fell back into the chair, gasping as the fire sped through him, down to his stomach and out through his veins, racing his heart toward the dark…thundering at deafening volumes until he had to cover his ears, hold his head to keep it from exploding.

Black filled him, splashed with color, with light, vibrant, pushing and pulling him, tossing and twirling him until he wasn't sure which way was up or out, there was only the endless expanse of his brain, of the air.

Slowly he could feel the chair that held him, the clothes on his skin, the room around him. _Dean_. Even without opening his eyes, he could see his brother, solid, pure, strong. A column of good, of power so different from Sam. There was concern, fury, fear all washing through him as Castiel let down the wall and Dean surged forward, the wave of his emotion flooding over Sam.

"I'm okay." Sam said, his voice sounding strange.

Castiel was like a blaze of white. John was nearly white himself, bright and strong. His presence was big, as if he were still a man, and not the boy Sam saw. The world tilted when he tried to stand, but Dean caught him. 

"You must rest now Samuel, let your body acclimate. I will stand watch. You will be safe." Castiel's mouth didn't move, but Sam heard him just fine. "I am a part of you now."

Sam wasn't entirely sure how they got up the stairs, but Dean eased him into his bed, his concern nearly palpable. "Don't be mad at me." Sam said, fighting to keep his eyes open. "Don't want to hurt you."

"Not mad Sammy."

He wanted to say more, but his body was heavy, his eyes sliding shut. The dark was softer somehow, sleep beckoning. Sam let it claim him, let it wrap around him and comfort him and he slept.

 

The house was quiet when he woke, the vague light of not-quite-morning coming in under the blinds on his window. He could feel Dean and John, both of them in their beds, though only John was sleeping. He could feel Castiel too, and he wasn't alone.

Sam sat up, breathing in deep. Everything shifted, the extra awareness falling back some, not as prominent. His body ached as if he'd been in a fight, but he stood, stretching. He had a deep, urgent need to relieve himself and padded out to the bathroom.

He was only half surprised to find Dean waiting for him when he came out. "You okay?" His eyes followed Sam, traced over his face, his body and back up to his eyes.

Sam nodded. "I feel good."

"I was beginning to really worry. You go from barely sleeping at all to not waking up for days and I--"

"Days?" Sam frowned a little, but that would explain why he felt so rested.

"It's your birthday Sam."

Days, like three of them. "Wow, I guess I really needed it."

"John's been going crazy."

Sam nodded. "It's okay. He'll be fine." Sam pulled Dean into a hug, holding him tight, relishing the solid strength of him. "We're all going to be fine now."

"What about the stuff Dad left us? The ritual?"

"I think Pastor Jim was right about the amulet, we should destroy it. Dad didn't understand how powerful it is. The demons want it for a reason." Sam glanced at John's door. "Does he remember?"

Dean shook his head. "Not really. Missouri says it may come back to him later, but for now, it's faded."

"Good. He's better not knowing."

"You're kind of freaking me out." Dean said suddenly. "Are you really…okay?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah, for the first time in a long time, Dean. I think maybe Castiel was right about this."

"Can it really be that easy?" They headed down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Easy?" Sam shook his head. "I have a lot to learn, Dean. One day Azazel's going to come back, and we have to be ready…and there's no guarantee I won't…" Sam looked away from his brother, the memory of what he could become spinning through him. "There's no guarantee I won't still lose it in the end."

Dean finished filling the coffee maker and turned to look at Sam. "So we train?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, we train, and we study and we learn and we do our best to make sure John gets to be a kid for as long as we can."

"That's a pretty tall order, Sam, and not what Dad had in mind."

Sam nodded again. "Well, it's time we realized Dad didn't know everything Dean, even when he thought he did, and…he's gone, and he isn't coming back. So we make the decisions now." Sam went about pulling out breakfast foods, suddenly starving. 

"You know you're a lot like him." Dean said after a long time. 

Sam looked at him, knowing there was a time he would have argued, would have said he was nothing like their father, but that time was long past. "I hope so, Dean. I hope I'm a lot like you too."

"I need to get to work." Dean poured himself a cup of coffee, sipping at it as he looked Sam over again.

"Go on, I got John. I'm thinking I've got a crapload of school work to catch up on."

"Oh, right. Matt came by. I told him you were down with the flu. He said to call him."

"Thanks." Sam buttered his toast and took a bite. "Seriously. Go on. I'll get John to school." 

Dean grabbed him, hugging him tight. "Love you Sammy."

Sam grinned at him as he headed out of the kitchen with his coffee to get dressed. He went back to eating, not even looking up when Castiel sat down.

"You know it isn't over."

"Only just beginning." Sam said calmly.

"Azazel will come back, will try again."

Sam nodded. "I know."

"And the demons your father stole that amulet from, they will likewise continue looking for him."

"They can keep trying." Sam said, finally looking at Castiel. 

"Do not get overconfident Samuel, it is nearly as dangerous as fear and anger."

"I'm a Winchester, Cas." Sam stood, clapping a hand to the angel's shoulder. "Demons that fuck with us get fucked up. It's not overconfidence, it's a promise."

"We will meet again, Samuel Winchester. Take care of those gifts you have been given, and guard yourself well."

"See you around." Sam didn't look to see him leave. He had work to do.


End file.
